


The Great Pretender

by talktowater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Crime, Drugs, First Time, Jive talk, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talktowater/pseuds/talktowater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is the new kid at Beacon Hills High, class of 1958 and he's trying to make an impression. Derek can't figure out why this kid is so set on making such a bad one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided not to tag this with everything because I don't really want to give the entire plot away. 
> 
> I can assure you as it does NOT contain non-consent, knotting, death of either Stiles/Derek or MPREG. But it could contain anything else that may be a trigger so if you're worried maybe just avoid it (Could, could, not will -- I don't know what triggers anyone! I just don't want to tag everything *whines*)
> 
> Most importantly if you can't jive with jive talk, there is a bit of it in here in the first half of the story, so if you can't deal-- another reason to bow out now. 
> 
> The hipster talk is sporadic but if you get lost I'm working on this appendix for you: talktowater.tumblr.com/appendix
> 
> This playlist is the most: http://talktowater.tumblr.com/post/37896827658/playlist-for-the-great-pretender-the-best

In the last weeks of the summer of 1958, Stiles spent a lot of time watching. He didn’t speak to a soul, didn’t try to stand out, just watched the teenagers of Beacon Hills as they played it up from afar while he tried to determine their rank. He’d moved from Long Beach in time for the new school year and there was nothing more important than falling in with the top studs on the first day of school. Stiles was grateful for the fact that the teenagers in the town were all so self-involved that they never noticed him watching, in the back of the diner, in a far corner of the local juke joint or loitering in the lobby of the cinema.

He’d determined pretty quickly that the top stud at Beacon Hills High was a kid called Jackson, in typical top stud style he had teen idol looks accompanied with a bad attitude and a snarl to match. Jackson had a girl, Lydia, she took self-involvement to new heights but with those lips and that Rita Hayworth hair, not even Stiles could argue she didn’t have a good reason for it. He figured his best way in was through the shyer one of the gang, Scott, with the big brown eyes and the pompadour so high you’d think he was a greaser; he didn’t say a lot but always had a smile on his face. He was probably a hophead, his girl Allison definitely was, but they were the exact type of friends he wanted to make.

It was only in the early mornings when all the kids were still sleeping off whatever they’d taken the night before that Stiles took a break from watching and ran, like he’d done every other morning along the beach before he’d come to Beacon Hills. At first he’d run the empty streets at the break of dawn and take in the sights, but it didn’t take long for the interminable rows of identical houses to dull his mind. He needed visual stimulation, even if it was just the movement of the wind in the trees or the ocean rolling in, so after a few days of little boxes he’d decided to keep running into the Beacon Hills Preserve on the edge of town. He didn’t know how far the preserve stretched, the maps of Beacon County still had only had as much detail as they’d had when the town was settled.

On the second day exploring the preserve he’d found a creek that looked like it had probably been a local swimming hole at some point in the past. There were large trees that had grown over the creek like an archway shielding the creek from the sun, and a large rock that jutted out behind the trees that looked like it had almost been put there on purpose. There weren’t the usual signs of current use, no empty Coca-Cola bottles or cigarette butts littered the rocks or grass surrounding the creek. Stiles liked the solitude though, it was nice to be in his own head where the only sound for miles were the native birds out of sight in the high trees above. He slipped out of his gym shorts and t-shirt before diving shallowly into the creek. It can’t have been later than seven in the morning, and was shocked at the warmth of the water compared to the freezing Pacific Ocean he was used to swimming in.

His quick dip to cool off after his long run had turned into a lazy swim that he was in no rush to end. The sun was up in the sky now, and he floated on his back looking at the tiny rays stealing through gaps between the leaves of the trees, creating patterns on the water. He was so mesmerized by it that when a car pulled up in the distance it took until the moment he heard the splash of the water nearby to process the fact that he was no longer alone in the creek. He moved from lying on his back to treading water so he could face the intruder.

Whoever it was hadn’t come up for air yet, but about five seconds later a man emerged a foot from Stiles, facing him with a look of annoyance. He had dark hair, almost transparent green eyes, and was the most attractive man Stiles had ever seen in person, maybe even on screen too.

“What are you doing here?” The man asked with clear irritation.

Stiles shot his eyes around the edge of the creek looking for private property signs he’d missed, “There aren’t any private property signs.”

The man frowned, “Well it is. We don’t need signs, everyone knows better than to come here.”

Stiles gulped, “I didn’t see a house anywhere.”

“Because there isn’t one,” he scowled.

“Wow I bet you’re popular.”

“All I ever wanted, to be popular,” he mocked as he turned to swim away from Stiles, “you can leave now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was leaving anyway.”

The man dived under the water ignoring Stiles. Stiles climbed up on to the bank and if he took a little longer to get dressed as he watched the muscles on the man’s back flex while he swam, well the asshole was none the wiser.

Stiles was back at the creek the next day, the man hadn’t shown up when Stiles had finished his swim, but his compulsion to annoy and to look was stronger than the need to stay out of trouble so he laid out with his dry clothes under his head on the rock behind the trees, listening to the birds, waiting for the sound of an engine. He must have drifted off for a moment in the warm sun because he woke with a jolt, his sun shadowed by the large man from the day before standing over him looking even less impressed than he had been a day earlier.

“What part of private property did you have a hard time comprehending?”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows as if considering, then sat up on the rock, “I’d say it’s the private part that really leaves me dead on the vine.”

“I could call the sheriff.”

Stiles shrugged, “Okay, you got a magic phone you can call the sheriff on from out here, go ahead.”

The man’s face was set in a permanent scowl it seemed, but instead of countering Stiles he exhaled deeply out of his nose before stripping off in front of Stiles and diving into the creek. It took a little while before Stiles’ brain caught up with his body’s reaction to seeing this man, who he knew was built from the glimpse he’d caught the day before, but the close up view had confirmed his hypothesis that this man was a model for American Man or another beefcake magazine.

Stiles dived back in not long after the man and swam close to him, “Are you a bodybuilder?”

The man just shot him a look of disgust and didn’t answer, but when he realized Stiles wasn’t going anywhere he finally sighed, “No. Do you always make a point of annoying strangers and asking stupid questions?”

Stiles nodded, “My elementary report cards always said, prone to impulsive, inappropriate and unexplainable behavior.”

“I’m not interested.”

Stiles grinned, “But you haven’t swum away yet.”

The man raised both his eyebrows before swimming away, not acknowledging Stiles for the rest of his swim, ignoring Stiles’ wave goodbye when he’d padded back to his car.

Despite this man’s aversion to Stiles, he never asked him to leave again, and by the Sunday before the new school year started back the man had even started talking back a little.

“You ever going to tell me your name?” Stiles asked as he laid out on the rock, the man a foot away lying alongside him.

“You never told me yours,” the man said absently.

“Maybe mine isn’t a very good name.”

“Derek.”

“Fits,” he turned his head to face Derek, and was surprised to see him looking straight back at Stiles.

“You got a girl, Derek?”

“None of your business,” he snapped, his face hardening.

Stiles held back his smile, “S’pose you’re right.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Well perhaps I just think you’re real cute,” Stiles laughed, then felt a little guilty when Derek’s face reddened with humiliation.

“You shouldn’t say things like that. This is a small town, people’ll get the wrong idea about you.”

“Yup, I really shouldn’t. But maybe I want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles’ face a split second too long before his eyes quickly trailed down Stiles’ naked chest. Derek squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then stood, “It’s almost ten,” he said as if that would make sense as a goodbye then took off in an almost sprint to his car.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles waited until a minute before the morning bell rang to pull up in his Cadillac in front of the school, beating out another kid for the spot and giving him his practiced tough guy look when the kid shouted at him. He wanted the guy to fight him, what better way to start at a new school, but the guy just got back in his car and found another spot. Having a brand new flat top Cadillac drew enough attention though, and he laughed to himself when the kid he knew as Scott whistled and sidled up to his car as Stiles was jumping out over the door.

“Nice kemp, fifty eight new? Your daddy must be dirty with money.”

Stiles laughed, “He may’ve been. He pegged out before I got a chance to find out.” Scott looked suddenly very uncomfortable so Stiles hit him with a friendly slap on the back, and laughed, “He was a punk, I make my own bread, savvy?”

Scott nodded his head a couple of times before smiling, “Yeah, yeah savvy. Name’s Scott McCall,” he said before throwing his arm around Stiles’ shoulder guiding him toward the main building, “you got a name new guy?”

“Dylan O'Brien.” Stiles lied seamlessly, it was a tough name straight out of the papers about an Irish gangster and the kinda name the top stud at a school like Beacon Hills would have he’d figured. Nobody ever made it big with a Polish name he knew that much.

As they approached the large archway leading into the school Stiles spotted Lydia, the girlfriend of the top stud standing by the stairs with Scott’s girlfriend. Scott’s girlfriend lit up when she saw him and rushed to him causing Scott to drop his arm from Stiles’ shoulder. Lydia, rolled her eyes at the arguably excessive affection between Scott and his girl.

Scott gushed to Stiles, “This is my girl, Allison Argent.”

Stiles tried to hold back his laugh at the thought of Sheriff Argent having a hophead daughter, “Who is he?” she whispered, studying him suspiciously.

“Name’s Dylan,” he said while wagging an eyebrow at Lydia.

Allison gave him an awkward smile before wrapping herself back around Scott, getting hot and heavy right there on the steps not caring about who saw.

Stiles turned fully to the sour faced Lydia, and winked, “Hiya kitten, how about you and me cut out of here and take care of business?”

“How about you cut out of here and forget to come back?” She said, hands on hips and eyebrows raised.

“You’re a panic and a half baby,” he hitched closer to her.

Jackson strode up the path past them then walked back when he saw Stiles standing too close to his girl. He threw his arm around her shoulders possessively and shot Stiles a challenging scowl, “Cool it.”

“What’s that chump?” Stiles said with a grin.

The guy’s face shifted from scowling to almost eye twitching anger, “Beat it.”

Stiles smirked, and raised his eyebrows with a challenge, “You want to start a rumble?”

 “Drop it buster,” he growled, the vein above his eyebrows twitching a little. Lydia looked bored with the conversation, and was looking down at her hands, running her thumb over her fingernails.

“Scared of a little competition?”

Jackson looked him up and down and laughed before guiding Lydia inside the building, arm still around her shoulder. Allison followed quickly behind them, leaving Scott behind with Stiles.

“Oh man, don’t be so fast to start a rumble with the president of the Wolves. Jackson’s the top stud at Beacon Hills High.”

Stiles laughed cockily, “I got news for you man. Before this crummy day is over, every kid in this whole crummy school is going to know who Dylan O'Brien is, see I don’t join them man, they join me. You dig me?”

“I dig you.”

“Well I’m putting it down,” he grinned, shaking the other boys hand.

“And I’m picking it up.”

***

Stiles strode into the waiting area of the principals office and eyed up the pretty girl sitting on one of the chairs. He grinned and sat next to her, peering over into the book she was reading, causing her to look up.

“Lolita, is it as wild as they say? Think I should add it to my reading list?”

“Like a punk like you ever reads a book,” she frowned, then looked back down at her book.

“Okay chick,” he stood with his hands up defensively as he backed away, “it looks like I dialed the wrong number.”

She didn’t respond but a cold-faced woman walked into the room at that moment and sat behind the secretary’s desk, a small wooden plaque read, Mrs. Argent, “Young man,” she said staring at Stiles without patience, gesturing for him to join her at her desk.

“Me?”

“Who do you think I mean?”

“I dunno, I got no time to play guessing games,” he laughed as he walked closer, lighting a cigarillo as he did.

“Give me that,” she scolded, standing to pull the cigarillo out of his mouth.

“Now watch out, that weed might be too strong for you, wouldn’t you much rather have a cigarette?”

Her face morphed from a straight scowl into a confused one, “What?” Stiles just winked back. “What do you want here?”

He leaned into his back pocket, pulling out an envelope, “I’m a transfer from Long Beach.”

She opened the envelope and looked over it suspiciously, “Come here,” she commanded as she walked towards her desk reading over his record, “It says here you’re an orphan and you live with your aunt.”

He shrugged, “That’s the way the bongo bingles.”

She looked at him with pure annoyance as he fidgeted and shuffled the papers on her desk at random, “Please leave those papers alone,” she snapped. Stiles stood back and put his arms up in defeat as she looked up from his records, “your behavior record is very bad.”

“So what?”

“You were expelled from your last school.”

He grinned proudly and shot her a wink, “I remember, I was there baby so let’s skip the ancient history, what’s the scoop now?”

She leaned forward menacingly, “If you’re trying to create an impression, I’m unimpressed.” She stamped his admission information then without looking up said, “there’s a two dollar deposit for a years supply of gym towels.”

He smirked and pulled out a huge wad of bills, pulling one from the top of the stack, “You uhh, got change for a twenty?”

She looked at the twenty-dollar bill then back up at him, shaking her head disapprovingly and handing the note back to him, “I think you’d better see our principal Mr. Argent when he returns.”

“Argent? Oh I see, this is a family joint.”

“No,” she tore off a note and handed it to Stiles, “please take this to your homeroom.”

He looked down at the note and back up at her, then winked, “Thanks, give me a ring doll.”

***

Stiles was late to gym class, and after arriving to find the gym empty he made his way out to the field to see the class running laps around the track. He recognized Jackson and Scott from a distance on the track, and was surprised to see Jackson at the front, it wasn’t usual for the top stud of a school to show such eagerness in gym but at least he knew how to play it now. Lydia and Allison were sitting on the benches with a couple of other girls watching the guys run.

Stiles padded down to the field, his note in hand, giving the girls a wink as he walked past them. “Who’s the creep?” One of the unfamiliar girls asked.

Stiles laughed to himself when he heard Lydia say, “Never seen him before.”

The gym teacher had his back to him and was shouting at the runners. Stiles’ eyes fixed on the tanned, muscular hairy legs, leading up to short shorts and a wide well-built back and he knew from those well memorized details even before the teacher turned around that it was Derek. He blew his whistle then turned quickly to come face to face with Stiles, a look of shock on his face.

“It’s you.”

Stiles handed over the slip of paper his homeroom teacher had given him, “Dylan O'Brien.”

Derek looked down at the paper, before clipping it on to his clipboard in his hands, “You’re a student,” he said sounding still a little shocked, or maybe even ashamed. He stared at Stiles a moment longer before pointing out at the field, “Let’s see what you can do.”

Stiles managed to make Jackson hate him even more by besting him in gym. He ran faster, jumped higher, and didn’t lose his breath so quickly. Lydia even nodded her head at him when he walked past her at the end of class to the changing rooms.

***

He’d made it as far as third before he was sent to see Mr. Argent by his Math teacher. Stiles threw his legs on the desk and made himself comfortable in the principal’s chair while he waited. Not long after, the short old man Stiles’ assumed was Mr. Argent walked through the door, frowning at the sight of Stiles behind his desk, smoking a cigarillo and playing with a knife.

“Get out of my chair.”

Stiles swung his legs down, walked over to Mr. Argent, looking down at the shorter man, “Looks like you need the seat, can’t have you collapsing.”

 Mr. Argent put his hand out to Stiles, “Hand it over, the knife…” Stiles passed it to him before moving to sit on the other side of the desk, Mr. Argent walked in front of him, his other hand still extended, “and that thing that you’re smoking,” Stiles handed his cigarillo over then threw his legs up on the desk. “Feet off my desk.”

 Stiles’ smiled to himself proudly before he finally dropped both of his legs back down to the floor. Mr Argent moved around to his side of the desk, putting both hands down on the desk, probably his attempt to look more authoritative. He narrowed his eyes at Stiles, then shook his head, “Just what were you trying to accomplish?”

Stiles shrugged, leaned forward in his chair, and faked confusion, “I don’t dig you.”

 “In my office we talk just plain old-fashioned English, it’ll help us to understand each other.”

Stiles threw up both hands dismissively, “Man, what’s there to understand? Come to the porch you’re dragging your rear axel in waltz time.”

“I haven’t any idea of what you’ve been saying—“

“Well what I’ve said was—“

“Don’t make a profession out of rudeness and no more knives. If I ever hear of you having one I’ll report you to the juvenile authorities. Get back to class.”

Stiles nodded noncommittally, “Thanks, it’s been a real kick.” he said as he stood, then grinned and waved at Mr. Argent as he let himself out of the office.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Hello Stiles darling,” Erica mocked as she walked into the kitchen, spotting Stiles at the table.

“Why Aunty, so nice to see you.”

“How did school go?”

He shrugged and took a sip of his milk “It went.”

Erica’s mouth twisted into a smile, “I’m sure it can’t have been all that bad, surrounded by all those young tight sweaters.”

“I don’t dig San Quentin quail.” he stood, moving around her to get to the door.

She grabbed him and put her arms around his shoulders, “Well ain’t it lucky you’ve got me?”

He grabbed her hands, putting them back down by her sides, “I’m sure you got ways like a mowing machine but kitten you gotta stop pushing. You’re supposed to be my relative.”

“Remind me, is it on your mother or fathers side?”

“It’s on the ‘I need a legal adult guardian to be enrolled in school’ side.”

“But I’m so bored Stiles,” she whined.

“I hear knitting is a blast and a half.”

 “You’re no fun.”

“Nope,” Stiles smirked then waved, “bye now.”

***       

The next morning Stiles went back to the creek, mostly hoping to see Derek but even without him, the quiet solitude of the creek was a needed break from playing tough guy at school. It was barely six thirty in the morning and he’d been in the water no more than a minute before Derek dived in.

He swam up beside Stiles, “You could have told me you were in high school.”

“You could have told me you were a teacher.”

“I don’t think you should come here anymore.”

Stiles swam closer, “Why’s that coach? We breaking rules swimming in the same place?”

“No,” he said, his jaw tightening.

Stiles smiled and said before swimming off, “Then I think I’ll keep coming.”

***

Stiles was looking for a seat in the lunch room with Scott trailing behind when he overheard Lydia from behind.

 “I’m dry,” Lydia said with a hint of desperation, “I’ve used up this weeks allowance.”

“Wish I could help you doll but—“ Jackson stopped when he finally noticed Stiles standing next to their table listening in on their unsubtle conversation.

Stiles grinned as he sat across from Jackson on the table that could only seat four, “Hi people, can I sit down? Thanks,” then waved to the spare seat next to him, “Scott why don’t you sit there?”

“School is sure getting a low class clientele,” Jackson said with a scowl before taking a bite of his apple.

“Hey what’s your beef man? I just want to play friends, that a crime in Beacon Hills?”

“Don’t need any more friends,” he pointed to a table of the bookish kids, “maybe those geeks will let you join their gang.”

Stiles grinned, leaning back on his chair, “Jackson, you got it all wrong, see when I take over the Wolves, you’re gonna be the one finding a new table if you’re not happy about the arrangement.”

Scott was snickering at Stiles’ bravado and Jackson’s whitened knuckles. Jackson turned to Scott, “What are you gassing about McCall? Are you anybody?”

“I’d start being nice to my pal here if you know what’s good for you,” Stiles turned to Lydia who looked completely bored with the conversation, but her hands were shaking so much she was having a hard time holding on to her milk, “What do you say about you and me kitten?”

Lydia didn’t even look his way, she just kept staring at her hands as they tremored.

“Lay off dad, Lydia’s my pet.”

Stiles smirked, “Got a scoop for you Jack, things are changing round here, starting today.” Jackson just narrowed his eyes but didn’t qualify Stiles’ words with a response. Lydia though, looked a minute from vomiting, Stiles turned to her, “What’s the matter, you feel sick?”

Lydia looked between Stiles and Jackson before standing up and running out of the lunchroom. Jackson stood to follow her but Stiles grabbed his arm as he walked past him, “Looks like Lydia has a case of the screaming mimis.”

Jackson looked at the hand Stiles had on his arm and shrugged it off roughly before looking down at him, “Looks like Lydia is none of your business.”

Stiles laughed, “You’re not clued in Jack, I’m making it my business.”

Jackson shook his head, “You’re asking for a lot of trouble boy.”

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugged, “Maybe… Why don’t we settle this personally.”

Jackson laughed at him, patting his shoulder patronizingly, “Oh it’s gonna be settled. My way.”

***

Stiles was pulling out of the school parking lot when he saw Derek struggling to get his car started in the now empty lot. He bit down on his smile as he pulled his Cadillac up in front of Derek and leaned over the passenger seat.

“Need a ride?”

“Lousy ragtop,” he cursed, kicking the tire then scowled at Stiles, “The battery’s dead.”

“Hop in, see what a real kemp rides like.”

“It don’t think that would be appropriate,” Derek said, his voice a lot softer.

Stiles laughed, “I dig, you’re a teacher and you can’t be doing anything teachers aren’t supposed to. Don’t worry I won’t let you do anything you shouldn’t.”

Stiles leaned over opening the passenger door. Derek looked between his dead car and Stiles’ open door before rolling his eyes and climbing into the passenger side reluctantly. Stiles grinned, and threw his arm around Derek’s shoulder to shut the passenger door. Sure it was risky, it was always risky, but the risk paid off when he heard the sharp intake of breath from Derek, before he slid back over to the driver’s side.

Stiles winked at Derek when he looked over at him, causing Derek to clam up again, leaning forward to switch on the radio before Stiles had a chance to stop him. Stiles cringed when he heard, “ _The moon belongs to everyone, the best things in life are free…_ ”

Stiles quickly changed the station. Derek looked at him with curiosity, raising an eyebrow and laughed, “Didn’t take you for a bobby soxer.”

“You’re a panic teach. Don’t you know I’m a non-stop stud? I don’t dig swing.”

“Your radio station selection proves otherwise.”

“Must have been the repair shop. I guess that Mel Torme jive is right up your alley.”

Derek nodded, “Class of ’47. _Good News_ , the movie this song comes from came out my senior year, we went crazy over it. Things were a lot different back then”

Stiles laughed, “You say that like it’s ancient history. That was only three—“ he stopped himself, “you’re not so old is all I’m putting down.”

“Much older than you boy.”

Stiles smiled, “I’m an adult in all the ways it counts.”

“Eighteen is barely an adult,” Derek scoffed, looking out his side of the car, avoiding eye contact with Stiles.

“If you say so dad,” Stiles laughed.

Derek turned to him sharply, “What’s your angle? What are you trying to prove with this act?”

“I’m not putting on no veil.”

“You’ve been at this school less than a week and have been sent to Mr. Argent more than most kids in their entire high school career. You’ve got something to prove, I just don’t understand what, or why.”

“I got my reasons Derek.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.“

“It’s your name isn’t it?” Derek sighed loudly next to him, so he relented, “Yeah yeah, don’t call me Derek. I got you coach.”

“I’m just up here on the right,” Derek pointed out a small bungalow that looked straight out of an Andy Hardy movie.

“Nice digs pop. Gonna invite me in?”

“Not in a million years.”

Stiles parked in front of Derek’s house, trying to ignore the mental picture of him maintaining his immaculate garden that sat out front. Derek didn’t get out straight away though, Stiles smirked at him before asking, “Need me to get the door for you?”

Derek gave him a dirty look before getting out of the car, “Thank you for the ride.”

“No problem, I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“My car will be fixed by then.”

Stiles grinned and leaned his chest over the door, head in hands, “But we’ve got a lot of things to discuss.”

Derek lifted both brows skeptically, “Like?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Derek shook his head, his facial expression a mix between anger and confusion, “I’ll see you, tomorrow.”

***

Stiles thought a lot about Derek’s goodbye, the way he said tomorrow, not in class or at school, just tomorrow. Stiles couldn’t help but think Derek meant at the creek, like it was the only place he would talk to Stiles. He set out for his run at five thirty the next morning and headed towards the creek like he had every day before, he couldn’t stop himself, despite the fact that if anyone knew about the way he wanted Derek he’d lose everything, or at least the little he had in life. If Derek had wanted him turned into the police for his perversions he wouldn’t have kept coming back every morning when he knew Stiles was going to be there, he was sure Derek felt something too but took comfort in the fact that Derek was never going to say yes to him. Stiles could tease him and flirt a little and there wouldn’t be repercussions because Derek would scold him for being inappropriate or roll his eyes, but he would never kiss Stiles or touch him. Derek was a safe infatuation.

Derek was there before him for a change swimming laps across the widest part of the creek, Stiles stood and watched him until Derek stopped, then said looking up at him. “You swimming or staring?”

Stiles clumsily shucked off his shoes and pulled off his singlet before diving into the water, swimming as close as he could get to Derek before he came up for air, “Hi.”

Derek looked at him a little longer than he usually did before he said, “You’re up earlier than most teenagers.”

“I’ve always been late to bed, early to rise.”

“I need to stop coming here,” Derek said, sounding smaller, as he treaded water.

“You won’t, will you?”

“No,” he said, diving back under the water, missing Stiles’ satisfied smile.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Erica cornered him the next morning over breakfast, wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini, “You like my new suit Stiles? I can’t decide,” she smirked, twisting in front of him.

“Where you gonna wear that thing?”

She shrugged, “I’m going swimming soon with some of my new friends, maybe you should come, I can introduce you.”

“Sorry doll, too out of character, can’t be seen playing with old folks at their pool parties.”

“Old folks, you fracture me,” She dead panned before leaning down over the table where Stiles was sat eating oatmeal, “you could pretend to be fun you know.”

Stiles stood then rinsed his bowl out in the sink, and turned to Erica, “I don’t like to pretend.”

She grinned, “When was the last time you didn’t pretend?”

“Touché, Mrs. O'Brien. Don’t worry I’m sure I can find a way to occupy myself while all the good folks of Beacon Hills are at church.”

***

He’d been swimming at the creek for about five minutes when heard a car roll up, doors slam and then a young girl’s voice say loudly, “You’re loopy Daddy, Mermaids are people not fish!”

“But they have tails, people don’t have tails,” the voice that sounded like Derek’s said, Stiles to treaded water trying to listen to the conversation. The owners of the voices were still out of sight as they walked through from the end of the dusty road and through the trees that led to the creek.

The girl made an exasperated loud sigh, “Daddy, some people are Chinese, some are white like you, or brown like me and some people are mermaids. We’re all different but we’re still people.”

The man laughed, “Well when you explain it like that. I can’t believe I never saw it before.”

“That’s why you have me. Boys never understand things like that.”

Stiles saw the figures emerge from behind the trees, the little girl was running ahead of her dad, Stiles wasn’t great at picking how old children were but she looked five maybe six.

“Slow down Esme!”

The little girl, Esme, caught sight of Stiles, “Oh hi!”

Stiles smiled, and waved at her. Then was distracted by the man following her. Daddy. Who it turned out, actually was Derek. He was confused and felt like an idiot for reading Derek so wrong, there wasn’t one moment where he even considered the fact that Derek had a family, or a wife. He certainly didn’t look at Stiles like he was married. Derek noticed him a moment later, a little surprised to see him probably because it had only been four hours since they swam together last, “You’re back.”

“So are you.”

Esme was bouncing on her heels a little, “Daddy, can I jump in now? Pretty please with a cherry on top. I’ll never be Esther Williams if I don’t practice,” then she looked at Stiles and said earnestly, “I’m the best swimmer at Roosevelt Elementary, even better than the big kids if you want to know the truth.”

Stiles laughed, “I most certainly did.”

Esme beamed at Derek, then he nodded before she ran and dive-bombed into the creek, the splashes hitting Stiles in the face, “You coming in Daddy?”

Derek nodded and unbuttoned his shirt, fingers fumbling a little on the third and fourth buttons down, before dropping the shirt to the ground. He’d seen Derek shirtless a number of times now but watching him undress like this was torturously like a strip tease, just a really awkward one. “Oh my god,” Stiles slipped out accidentally, but probably quietly enough that Derek didn’t hear him.

Esme did though, she swam to him and said loudly “It’s quite bad manners to say oh my god, you should say oh my gosh next time another good one is, oh my goodness gracious me!”

Derek’s eyes snapped up, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look away. Derek gave him a warning look before slipping his jeans off and jumping into the creek.

Esme swam over to Derek and wrapped her arms around him then tried climbing up his body until she was standing on his shoulders, holding on to the arms Derek reached out above him. Stiles ducked under the water unable to look at the flex of Derek’s muscles and the hair under his arms, it was doing things to him that felt wrong to notice in front of this child.

When he came back up to the surface Esme had moved back to the shallow edge of the creek and was doing something that he supposed was water ballet. Derek wasn’t really swimming, just watching Esme with a smile on his face. “Didn’t know you had an ankle biter.”

Derek just grinned, “She’s my life.”

“Daddy! Did you see that? Did you? Can you even tell it’s me or did you think I was the Million Dollar Mermaid?”

“I— Wait! Esme? Is that really you! I thought you were Esther Williams. You’re just too good, I can’t even tell you apart. Except you’re much prettier.”

Esme giggled then swam back to Derek, then looked at Stiles who had become distracted from his swimming by watching their exchange, “Are you married?”

Stiles laughed, “Me?”

Derek kissed Esme on the cheek, “Honey, he’s a high school student.”

Esme narrowed her eyes at him, “Nope.”

“He’s in my class.”

She shook her head and said patronizingly, “No daddy, he's a grown up. I can tell,” then in a loud whisper in Derek’s ear, “he has lots of hairs on his chest and arms daddy.”

Stiles laughed it off, before Derek shook his head, looking at Stiles, “Sorry.”

“My Daddy’s not married either,” she sighed.

Stiles and Derek’s eyes met for a fraction longer than they should have. Enough for Stiles to think, maybe in another life, maybe there would be something there. But they weren’t in another life.

***

The seasons changed, Stiles and Derek stopped meeting every morning in late November, which was already a month longer than they should have been taking early morning swims for. Stiles didn’t learn much more about Derek in that time and he didn’t push because if Derek talked then he’d have to too. So they’d swim, swap a quip about movies they’d seen, sometimes they’d talk about baseball, but most of the time they didn’t talk at all, both of them careful not to cross any lines which would mean losing the comfortable companionship they’d established over the previous four months. In school they didn’t interact, as bad as Derek probably felt it was for his reputation having a friendship with a student, it was even worse for Stiles’ credibility at school. Sometimes he’d tease Derek a little more than he wanted to for appearances in class and it ate him up watching Derek’s face crumble a little.

It was the first week of January when Derek walked into his English class wearing a suit instead of his usual shorts and Beacon Hills High t-shirt, “It seems as though I will be your English teacher for the rest of the year because Mrs. Finstock has decided to reproduce again.”

Stiles didn’t know how he was supposed to function seeing Derek twice a day without being able to talk to him. He wanted their mornings back but there wasn’t really a way to ask for them without acknowledging why he wanted them so bad. So he slunk into the back of his seat and laughed along when a kid called out, “Do you even know how to read coach?”

Derek’s eyes met his for a second and Stiles ignored how much it hurt him to see Derek like that.

***

“Top class Derek, think I may have even learned something,” Stiles grinned at Derek after class.

Derek raised his eyebrows, “Good to hear, maybe you can even manage not to get kicked out of this school this time.”

“You been reading up on me?” Stiles sat on the corner of Derek’s desk, definitely not missing the sudden stiffness of Derek’s shoulders when he did it.

“I read all my students records.”

Stiles grinned, “But you liked mine best didn’t you Derek?

“Please don’t call me Derek at school,” he sighed with frustration.

“OK, don’t blow your jets baby,” Stiles grinned. Derek’s face froze up, Stiles could even see his eyebrow twitch.

“I think it’s time for you to run along now.”

“I get it, but I don’t want it,” Stiles winked as he jumped off of Derek’s desk.

“I think it would be best if you refrained from staying after class,” Derek said as Stiles walked toward the door.

***

It took three months of tough talk but Stiles had managed to get himself an invite to one of Lydia’s parties. He’d made nice with some of the Wolves and Scott was now his official number two. He knew he didn’t need to be president of the Wolves but nobody got anywhere trying to join a gang from the bottom, if he wanted to get in with them he needed to challenge the top stud.

He found Lydia in her bedroom trying to light a dead roach to smoke, “Hey kitten, I got lost.” She quickly tried to hide what she was doing but he just laughed, “you got any more weed?”

She looked at him suspiciously, “I didn’t know you were a roach bender Dylan.”

He laughed, “Oh yeah, who isn’t? But I prefer the harder stuff if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.”

She stood and ushered him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind him, “I’m all out of weed and Jackson won’t give me the hard stuff.”

“He pushing?”

She shook her head, “Only weed, and even then he won’t hand over without the bread. So much for being his girl.”

“Well look baby, I’ve got the bread but I don’t have the connections.” When Lydia didn’t respond with the expected admission of information he moved closer, pulling her hair behind her shoulder, bringing his body close to hers and with his lips so close to her ear he could kiss her if he were that way inclined he whispered, “What I’m saying is maybe you help me with the connection and I’ll help you right back with the dope. I’m not one to tell a kitten what she can and can’t do, you sound me?”

“I sound you plenty,” she said wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a kiss. Her lips were big and too soft, it would never stop feeling strange to kiss a girl but it was a means to an end so he kissed her back.

Their kiss was cut short due to Scott running into the bedroom crying, he grabbed Stiles’ arm pulling him toward the door, “It’s Allison, I don’t know what to do.”

Scott started to run and Stiles followed him down the stairs into the pool house where a bunch of kids danced and laughed, completely ignoring the girl on the couch convulsing. Her arms were covered in track marks, far more than even Stiles had guessed she had. Next to her laid a spent needle lying on the ground. Stiles felt her pulse, it was so slow it was almost absent, her breathing sedate enough to play a corpse in a film. He took off his jacket and threw it over her covering her arms, before picking her up. “Scott, where’s your car?”

They drove above speed limits to get to the hospital, and when they arrived were ushered into a waiting room. He was expecting the police to question him, had told Scott to go home, but Scott was determined to stay by Allison even if it meant going to jail for it. Sheriff Argent turned up around midnight, and instead of going straight into Allison’s room he stormed up to Scott, pinning him to the wall by the collar of his shirt.

“I swear if you come near my daughter again—“

“I didn’t do anything,” Scott squeaked out.

“Might want to cool it Sheriff. The only reason Allison’s even in this germsville right now is because of this cat here.”

Sheriff Argent let go of Scott then looked at Stiles coldly, “You’re about one word away from a night in lock up.”

 Stiles put his hands up, “If you want to play it that way. But if your daughter makes it through this, she’s gonna need to take a trip to Santa Rosa to clean out, you’re going to need Scott to get her there.”

***

Stiles was still changing after gym class in the empty locker room when he was cornered by Jackson and three of the Wolves, “You’ve been getting a little too close to my girl dad, think it’s time you learned a lesson,” Jackson said with a smirk, “I’m just gonna stand back a little, got a date with Lydia soon, don’t wanna get blood on my shirt.”

Stiles laughed, then turned to his locker pulling out a knife and encroaching on the Wolves, “I already lost one knife to Mr. Argent, don’t make me lose another in your guts.”

All three backed off quickly, too quickly to be considered a threat, but it didn’t surprise Stiles, teen gangs tended to be ninety percent bravado only ten percent trouble. “It’s cool man,” one of them said with his hands raised.

“You answer to me now,” Stiles smiled, “go on now tell that to the rest of the gang, Dylan's the new president of the Wolves.”

They took off within seconds, leaving Stiles and Jackson alone in the locker room. Stiles moved closer to Jackson, lopping off the end of Jackson’s tie with his knife, “What’s wrong? You got something to say Jack?” Jackson’s mouth hardened but he didn’t respond. Stiles leaned in and whispered in his ear, “don’t look so down, maybe I’ll keep you around if you behave yourself.”

Stiles still had the knife held up in Jackson’s face when Derek walked into the locker room, “Down,” he growled at Stiles who instantly dropped the knife on the concrete floor. Derek pointed at Jackson, “You. Out. Now.”

Jackson hurried out of the locker room, no longer holding himself like the top stud but a frightened child. Derek walked closer to Stiles, picking up the knife, looking it over closely. “Jackson and three of his guys cornered me first.”

Derek shook his head, “I’m certain they did, but no one ever carries a knife unless they plan on using it. You could be sent away just for carrying this thing around. You’re way too smart to risk signing away your life just to impress a few teenagers.”

“Are you going to report me to Mr. Argent?”

Derek shook his head, “You know that I won’t.”

“Look, I know what I’m doing.”

Derek sighed before nodding in defeat, “I tried.” He turned to walk away when Stiles grabbed his arm.

“How about I do you a deal, I’ll come over to your house and we can talk this whole thing over?”

Derek looked uncomfortable, and shrugged Stiles’ hand off of him, “Whatever it is you’re trying. It’s not going to work.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles walked in through the front door after school the next day to hear Erica speaking loudly to someone in the lounge, “Dylan is fine. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a little fun,” she paused for long moment, “or maybe you haven’t? A handsome fella like you, so jumpy, makes a girl wonder what you’re hiding. Maybe you’d like to come upstairs and prove me wrong?”

Stiles froze in place, his hand still on the door handle not wanting to break up the conversation by making a noise. He wasn’t surprised to hear Derek’s voice, “I think I’ll be going now.”

Erica cooed, “It’s okay, no one will ever know, we’ll just keep it between ourselves, all nice like. You know we’d have a lot of fun.”

“I’m certain we wouldn’t,” Derek said, the annoyance unmistakable, “Goodbye Mrs. O'Brien.”

Stiles shut the door behind him, making sure it was loud enough not to betray his eavesdropping and ran into Derek in the doorway to the living room. “What’s going on here?”

Derek nodded once at Stiles, “I was just paying your aunt here a little visit. I was just leaving.”

Stiles looked over Derek, his face was set into an angry scowl, and then at Erica who was giving Derek the evil eye. “Your teacher and I were fighting over your body and soul,” Erica smirked.

“Say what?” Stiles eyes darted back to Derek who was now storming toward the front door, he tried to follow but Derek shut the door in his face.

Erica’s mouth twisted into an evil smile, “Now I understand.”

“You’re fractured.”

She laughed, “Come on Stiles, I went to Berkeley. You could have just said something instead of making a girl feel like a fool for the past year.”

Stiles looked down at his shoes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She laughed, “You hid it well, but watching you and teach. You’ve got it bad and he’s sure got a yen for you. It’d take a knife to cut through all that sexual tension.”

“You’re nuts,” he scolded and turned to leave the room. Erica grabbed his arm pulling him back.

She grinned, “Don’t forget, I know you’re not really a baby,” he pulled away from her heading toward the front door, “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got a date, with Lydia.”

“Just close your eyes and think of teach,” she laughed as he shut the door behind him.

***

The Hop Spot, a juke joint just off the main strip, was jammed with the kids of Beacon Hills High. It was the kind of place that anyone over the age of twenty was viewed with suspicion, and there was always a faint whiff of weed in the air. On stage, a beatnik chick was laying down some heavy words, engaging all the kids in the joint with her dystopic views of the future. Stiles spotted Jackson at a table with two of the Wolves that had tried to corner him in the locker room.

Stiles cricked his neck, took a deep breath and then swaggered over to him, leaning one hand down on his table, ignoring the murderous look Jackson gave him, “I think it’s time to wise your old pal Dylan up with the Wolves family business. ”

“How wise?”

“I’m looking to go all the way.”

 Jackson stood, guiding Stiles away from the table into the empty corridor, “You got bread?”

“In spades dad,” Stiles winked, “I’m looking for a can.”

Jackson laughed, “I’ll give you a lid, but a can? I don’t have that much weed.”

“Well, I’ll take the lid then, but I’m gonna need a hook up to your head honcho, this strictly small time jive isn’t going to do it for this stud.”

Jackson considered him for a moment and then pulled the Prince Albert Tobacco can out of his jacket, “Alright. I’ll have to run it by Mr. H, he don’t take too kindly to strangers” he handed Stiles the can that, true to word only had a lids worth inside it, “Saturday, the Wolves drag at the Preserve. I’ll get you that can.”

Stiles tucked the can inside his jeans pocket, then turned to walk away, lifting his arm up in a facsimile of a wave, “Later gator.”

***

Stiles had been called to Mr. Argent’s office this time with no reason given, less as to why he was forced to sit outside in the waiting room for half an hour after school had ended. It was only when he heard loud voices coming from the office that he scooted to the chair closest to the door so he could listen in.

He chuckled to himself when he heard the seriousness of an older man’s voice as he talked about the dangers of weed fiends, “In the language the addicts use among themselves, marijuana is referred to as mary jane, pot, weed or tea. They never say to one another, ‘let’s smoke a marijuana cigarette.’ They say, ‘let’s turn on’ or ‘let’s blast a joint.”

“Commissioner,” a younger voice that sounded a lot like Derek’s, interrupted him, “don’t you think that you’re magnifying the wrong issue? We have a serious problem with harder drugs in this community yet you’re ignoring it in favor of a pointless crusade over marijuana?”

“A marijuana cigarette was found on the floor of one of your classrooms, and another in the girls gym. I’d like you to explain how a threat like this to our very core values as good Christian people, is pointless?”

 Mr. Argent laughed dismissively, “Pay no mind to Coach Hale, he is under the delusion that every nice kid in this school is shooting up and flying on goofballs. There may be one or two bad eggs smoking this marijuana but it’s not indicative of the larger population of the students.”

Derek sounded angry now, “No. You know we have a problem. This is more important than how the school looks in the papers for being associated with heroin. Kids have died and you’re just ignoring it. Your own granddaughter almost—”

“Coach Hale, I think it’s time you let the adults talk now,” Mr. Argent mocked.

Stiles still had his head close to the door when Derek came storming out of Mr. Argent’s office, walking straight past Stiles out into the hall. Stiles jumped up from his chair, chasing Derek out into the parking lot. He caught up to Derek as he was hopping into his car, and as he started the motor Stiles, without thinking, jumped over into the passenger seat.

Derek just drove, without acknowledging the fact that Stiles was sitting in his car. He didn’t stop when they’d reached the edge of town, or outer limits, he just kept driving until an hour later they were looking over at the Pacific Ocean on a cliff top in Carmel.

Derek moved across the seat next to Stiles, much closer than Stiles could have ever imagined he’d dare, he was barely an inch away from him, so close Stiles could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“You’re calmer now?”

Derek gritted his teeth, “I’m just so fucking sick of being told that I am imagining things. My most promising athlete from last year’s graduating class was found dead in the back of an alleyway five months ago. It makes me sick thinking that someone just dumped his body there. Gerard’s granddaughter overdosed and almost died last week. They’re saying she had an asthma attack. I see the track marks in gym, I know they’re doing it and I know where they’re getting it—“

“Wait, come again? How do you know where they’re getting it?”

Derek ignored his question, “I tried to set up a talk with the kids to educate them about how dangerous the stuff it, that they can die, but I was shot down. The school doesn’t want to be associated with heroin, never mind how many of their kids are on it, as long as they stick to wearing long sleeves and rolling dead bodies into alleyways the school still looks good.”

“What makes you think I’m not on the sleeve?”

 Derek took Stiles arm and ran his fingers from Stiles’ wrist, stopping at the inside of his elbow, “Because these don’t have any track marks or scars.”

“You’ve been looking at my arms.”

“I look at everyone’s arms,” Derek said defensively.

“You should check mine again, maybe I started?”

Stiles popped the buttons on the sleeve of each shirt, not really expecting but perhaps hoping Derek would. Derek hesitated before rolling up each of Stiles’ shirt sleeves to his biceps, before running his hands slowly along the sensitive skin of the inside of his left arm first, too slow for either of them to pretend that Derek was actually checking for track marks. Stiles’ breath hitched when Derek leaned over him tracing the skin on his right arm. After close to two minutes of torturing Stiles with the fine press of his thumbnail dragging along the veins in his forearms he pulled back, whispering in Stiles ear, “You’re clean.”

Stiles swallowed loudly, “Maybe I’m more of a reefer man.”

“No,” Derek said softly and shook his head, eyes still trained on Stiles’ face, “You’re not into reefer, or coke, or dope or goofballs or any other drug. No kid that gets up before dawn every morning to run is getting high the night before.”

“How did you know I run?”

“I’ve seen you run past my house.”

Stiles grinned, “Not since the first week when I discovered the preserve. You remember me from before we met?”

“Only because you’re the only person I’ve ever seen out running the streets.”

Stiles laughed, “Or perhaps you just like the way my legs look in shorts.”

Derek ignored his comment, and they fell into a comfortable silence both mesmerized by the pounding waves down on the beach below. The sun was starting to retreat, and the sky had turned from blue to golden when Derek breathed in deeply and said, “This is where Laura and I scattered the family ashes. We used to take vacations to Carmel-by-the-sea every summer as kids,” he said distantly.

“Family ashes?”

Derek let out a sound that was almost a laugh, “All my grandparents, and both my parents were killed in a fire ten years ago. We didn’t want to bury that many bodies. We didn’t know what to do. So we brought them here, let them fly in the wind.”

“I’m sorry.”

Derek shrugged, “Such is life.”

Stiles thought of his own family and nodded his head. “Does your sister still live in Beacon Hills?”

“She died four years ago, I had her buried, I needed Esme to have somewhere to visit her mother.”

“Esme’s your niece?”

Derek nodded solemnly but then shook his head, “No. She’s my daughter. She’s been mine since the day the nurse handed her over to me in the hospital. Laura wouldn’t even look at her.”

Stiles felt his throat tense, “I—“

Derek frowned, then took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just told you all of that.”

“Maybe you like me?”

Derek squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, “I wish I despised you.”

“Me too,” Stiles said sadly. Their silence stretched on again until the golden sky had become a solemn dark blue, the crescent moon hidden behind a tall cypress tree was now the only light shining on the car.

“I don’t believe you,” Derek said out of nowhere.

Stiles raised his eyebrows in confusion as Derek looked in his direction, his facial expression hard to make out in the low light. “I don’t pick up dad.”

“It’s like you’re two different people. I can’t figure you out, why you put on the tough guy act at school. Even if we didn’t have— even if all I was going off of to make my judgment was your writing in class, I’ve watched you write with an ease and skill most kids will never have, hell that I don’t even have. You have an intimidatingly advanced understanding of what we’re doing in class and I just… don’t believe you. You should be thinking about college not being top stud of a stupid high school gang.”

Stiles laughed, “‘Maybe I’m just trying to impress you, pretending to be a sesquipedalian, when I’m really just a no-goodnik from creepville.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Do you now?” Stiles leaned back on the seat, dragging both his hands roughly along the tops of his thighs before slapping them once in resignation, “You planning on doing anything about it?”

Derek shook his head, “No.”

“Because you’re not like that?”

Derek closed his eyes, took a deep breath then opened his eyes again, “No… I’m not.”

Stiles didn’t know why they were still parked up on a cliff in Carmel, but it was getting so late Stiles was starting to feel hungry. His eyes had adjusted to the low light, but he wished they hadn’t because he wanted a reason to look away from Derek. He wanted to look at the light of the moon shining off of the ocean below, but instead he found himself staring at Derek’s hands laid out between them on the car seat, or his leg remembering what that muscle looked like without the layer of khaki pants on top. Being around Derek was masochistic at best, but Stiles’ need to share in Derek’s presence was stronger than all the reason in the world.

“I miss swimming at the creek,” Stiles said as Derek finally started up the engine.

Derek surprised him with a genuine smile, “I do too.”

“I still run the preserve every morning… you know you could always—” Stiles said softly.

“You know that I shouldn’t.”

“But you will?”

“There’s no point in pretending I won’t.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles walked past all the kids tuning their engines, gearing up to drag, but Stiles was just looking for Jackson. Just before six he saw Jackson smoking a cigarillo leaning against the hood of a car that was set back from the other kids.

“How many sticks you got for me?” Stiles asked as he approached.

Jackson stubbed his smoke out under his foot, “A hundred, and it’s going to cost you a hundred too.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “Hey now, that’s retail, how am I gonna turn a profit?”

Jackson laughed, “Just checking if you’re savvy. They’re seventy five a piece.”

“That’s still ten more than it should be.”

Jackson shrugged, “Price went up. The heat is on, and I know I don’t need to tell you what the rap is for pushing— five to life.”

“I know, I’m all in tears. Look why don’t you just make it sixty five and I’ll buy all the caps you’ve got too.”

“Caps?” he laughed, “come on now man. I’m not pushing hard stuff.”

“Maybe I should go straight to the supplier.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed on him, “Don’t you dare. Peter don’t like to be bugged. You want something then you go through me.”

“Then point the way to some H, coke, and some goofballs.”

Jackson shook his head and opened the door to his car. Stiles watched carefully as he opened a secret compartment in the glove box pulling out a large plastic bag. Stiles pulled out five twenties, flashing them to Jackson, “You sure do got the bread don’t ya?” Stiles nodded, handing over the cash and just as Jackson was passing him the bag, sirens roared and a swarm of police cars invaded the drags. Jackson froze and dropped the bag, they both tried to high-tail it but made it about four feet before they were cornered by three police cars.

An officer jumped out of the car, grabbing the bag from the ground, he officer sniffed it, then gave a nod to the other three officers who moved in, ushering them into the car that was closest to them.

***

Stiles had been taken out of holding and into the Sheriff Argent’s office for interrogation. He frowned and shook his head at Stiles, “You’re lucky son, I tell everyone that comes through that door, first time you fell in with the wrong crowd, second time you join them in the big house. Am I speaking your jive son?”

“You’re steppin’ on your motor man to hear your cut out roar, it was a frame up job, I swear.”

The sheriff shook his head before looking up to the man standing behind Stiles, “You can go now deputy, deal with the others, I think I can handle this tough guy,” he smirked. Stiles heard the door shut behind him as the deputy had left.

“Sir,” Stiles nodded his head.

“Good to see you Stiles,” Sheriff Argent said, reaching over his desk to shake Stiles’ hand then leaning back on his chair casually.

“Aunty dearest on her way?”

A deputy knocked on the sheriff’s door before popping his head in, “There is a Mr. Harris here to post bail for Mr. O'Brien.”

Both Stiles and Sheriff Argent frowned in sync, before the Sheriff nodded and stood to usher Stiles out, “I don’t envy you son.”

Stiles laughed, “Maybe a little bit?”

The tall man in the expensive suit standing behind the desk signing the papers smiled at Stiles like he knew him, “Your aunt is very worried about you.”

Stiles played along, “I thought it was tobacco, honest.”

It wasn’t until they got outside that Stiles turned to him, “I’ve heard of you. Someone must like me to send a hotshot like you my way. So, how you gonna get me off this rap?”

Mr. Harris shook his head, and without enthusiasm said, “I’ll convince him that it’s a weak case against you, that you came from a broken home and all that sort of clap trap.” He stopped in front of a 1958 new Chevy, turning to Stiles before he climbed in, “Now, goodnight.”

Stiles grabbed his arm, “Hey, I like your tailor but I need to know who my fairy godmother is.”

Mr. Harris looked at him like he was an idiot, “Don’t kid me, surely you must know I work for Mr. H.”

***

Derek had been running with him all week, and just like their time at the creek, there was little conversation. They’d meet just outside the entrance to the preserve at six and run until the sunlight started streaming through the trees, usually parting in the same place they’d met with a cursory ‘see you later’. It was never tense despite Stiles’ constant thoughts of pinning Derek against a tree and just saying fuck it to everything by taking what he wanted. But no matter how good Derek looked in his gym clothes, running with him gave Stiles, more than anything a sense of overwhelming comfort.

“You put coke in your morning juice or something?” Stiles whined as he struggled to keep up with Derek. They’d run further than they ever had before, to where the terrain had become steeper, the trees knottier, the birds louder.

Derek turned and grinned a wide smile as he slowed to a jog, “You do know I was in the Ventura Braves before I became a teacher.”

“Of course you were,” he groaned as he stopped running, and leaned back against a tree, “because you weren’t perfect enough, you’re also a minor league baseball player.”

Derek stopped jogging, laughing as he padded across the thick bed of leaves to where Stiles stood against the tree, “I’m not perfect.”

“You are to me,” he whispered, all too aware of the closeness of their bodies.

“It’s normal for students to confuse their feelings over a teacher.” Derek’s eyes betrayed his statement as they fixed on Stiles’ lips.

“Is that’s what’s going on?” Stiles raised an eyebrow as he dared to reach out and run his hand along Derek’s side, “I’m confused?”

“Yes,” Derek uttered, barely a whisper, as he leaned into the touch.

“Are you confused?”

“Yes,” he said as he closed the distance between them, kissing Stiles softly but just once before standing back, rubbing the back of his neck then frowning, “I don’t— It’s getting late.”

***

Stiles cornered Jackson in the hallway at school, “You can thank Harris for me for busting me from that bum wrap, but don’t you think it’s time to introduce me to Mr. H.”

Jackson looked him up and down patronizingly, “You sure wanna climb up fast don’t you?”

“Look man, I don’t want to narrow in on your small time lids and cans deal. I want the hard stuff, and I’ll cut you in for half if you make it happen.”

Jackson looked to be considering it before he saw something behind Stiles and just nodded his head, “Later.”

Jackson took off and Stiles looked behind him to see what got him so spooked, his eyes landing on Derek making a fast approach toward him. “Dylan.”

A girl called out to him from the stairs above, “Man, you sure told off the fuzz in the pokey.”

Stiles smiled at her then turned his attention back to Derek who was looking at the girl with distaste, “Got some new admirers,” he said to Stiles.

Stiles shrugged, “Can I help it if I’m charming?”

Derek looked agitated, “Dylan,” he put his hand on Stiles’ arm before pulling it back like he’d been burnt, “You could have gone to jail for that stunt you pulled Saturday night, it’s all anything the teachers are talking about today.”

Stiles shrugged, “Ever heard the phrase, innocent until proven guilty?”

***

The band was playing and the kids were bopping, but Stiles and Lydia sat back in a table in the corner of the joint. Lydia reached into her shirt and lit a joint before Stiles pulled it from her mouth and threw it on the ground, turning to her, “Don’t be a drag kitten, we don’t want to get caught with reefer again.”

She smiled and pulled him in close, “I’ll just get my kicks out of you then.” She pulled him into a kiss, and he didn’t resist. He had to play along, play the part of Dylan the top stud, new president of the Wolves, whatever that meant. Her lips were too sticky, and mouth too small, but she couldn’t help being a girl he figured. Someone coughed above them, and when they both turned they saw Jackson as he took a seat at the table.

“Join us for a drink?” Stiles smiled amused by Jackson’s lack of interest in the fact his girl was kissing him in front of everyone in school to see.

Jackson shook his head, “Got no time for that. We’ve got five minutes, come on.”

After following Jackson through the maze of the corridors in the back of the joint he was led into an office. A girl he didn’t recognize lay on a bed in an adjoining room, crying and kicking her legs in a fit of the screaming mimis. Stiles felt sick over it, but his face didn’t betray the disgust at these people.

A man smoking a cigar walked into the room. He was younger than usual for the top stud of an operation this big, maybe late thirties if even. He was handsome too, in his expensive suit, hair slicked back with a mouth of straight white teeth that he flashed at Stiles with a creepy smile.

He nodded toward to the door, “Shut that will you. She still thinks she can get through this without shooting up again.”

Jackson shut the door before turning to Mr. H, “Mr. Hale, I’d like you too meet Dylan O’Brien. I’m sure you two will have a long and profitable friendship.”

Stiles’ eyes shot to Jackson who nodded in confirmation, well aware of what Stiles was thinking. He knew not to ask Mr. Hale about it though, his was a face of a man not to be messed with. “You can get out now,” he said to Jackson and after he’d left he looked up at Stiles, “Take a seat. Jackson tells me you’re real good people. Throwing your money around like you made it yourself.”

Stiles shrugged coolly, “I got four big ones and I want to connect with some junk. You gonna help me out or do I have to take my bread down south?”

Mr. Hale smirked, “Just because you made it with the low balls doesn’t mean you’re good people. We had a federal roper in four years ago, when we got through with him, he was too wet to plow.” He didn’t know if Mr. Hale was about to pull out a gun or what when he stood from behind the desk and moved to shake Stiles’ hand, “I checked up on you myself. You’re good people. I was a little surprised you got busted for doing H in Long Beach.”

“I’m no heavy user, that was just a recreational pop.”

“Let’s have a little pop ourselves then,” he said rolling up his sleeves and as he filled the needle, Stiles pulled a rubber racquetball from his pocket, concealing it in his palm, before rolling up his own sleeves and lifting up his arm.

Jackson walked back in the room, causing Mr. Hale to turn to him, “I told you to stay out of here.” Stiles used the distraction to empty the needle into the racquetball he’d placed in the crook of his arm, instead of his vein. When Mr. Hale turned back to him Stiles handed back the empty needle, letting his face go a little slack. Mr. Hale pulled his own shirt down and buttoned up the cuff.

“What about your pop?” Stiles asked in a dazed voice.

Mr. Hale smirked, “You just passed your final test. I never touch the stuff, never will. Just sell to hophead pushers like yourself. No junkie could ever be big time.”

“Why did you let me take a pop?” he slurred.

“Who says your big time? You’re just a big customer. I’m clean, no marks. You’re gonna end up like that chick in the other room,” he sat back down behind his desk, “okay, I got a ship sailing in next week. Maybe I’ll let you flip the hard stuff at Beacon Hills High.”

“Smooth dad.”

Mr. Hale smirked and waved his finger patronizingly, “Not so fast, you need to prove yourself before I let you near the top merchandise.”

Stiles laughed, “You snap the whip, I’ll make the trip.”

***

Stiles caught Jackson downstairs, nodding for him to follow him in to the men’s room, and after checking the stalls were empty he asked, “Okay lay it out straight man, is Coach part of this racket too?”

Jackson laughed quietly, “You really think that that king-sized drag is in on this? Hell, ain’t no one that good of an actor.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh. Don’t go poking your nose where it don’t belong dad.”

Stiles put up his hands in defense, “Hey just trying to pad my skull here, I don’t wanna get pinched because I didn’t get the lowdown.”

Jackson moved in closer and whispered in his hear, “Peel the ears and get it. All you need to know is Coach goes the way of the righteous and his uncle, the way of the savvy.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles got to school early the next day, and found Derek grading papers in his classroom. Derek looked up at him, almost pleased until his expression changed to one of indifference. “You’re here early.”

Stiles grinned, sitting on the corner of Derek’s desk, “Well you told me you didn’t want me to stay after class.”

The strangest thing happened because, instead of his trademarked scowl, Derek smiled a little before looking back down at the papers he was grading. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been ruminating on our talk about me getting serious about my future and I think you’re right. I need to straighten up and fly right. Trouble is, I just can’t wrap my head around these conjunctive verbs and prepositions.”

Derek looked up from his papers, studying Stiles for a moment then sighed, “You can’t seriously be trying to tell me you want tutoring?”

Stiles leaned in over the desk grinning, “Why gee Derek I never thought you’d ask, your place or—“

“You don’t need a tutor. But if you insist, I can put you in touch with one of the students who tutors some of the others in class, she came five points behind you in your last pop quiz, but I’m sure you’ll learn a lot.”

“You paralyze me,” Stiles grinned, then shook his head, “that’s strictly for the birds, I think you’re the only one who can really teach me.”

“I—“ Derek looked up at him with that pained expression Stiles had seen way too many times before.

Stiles put both hands up, “Promise I’ll keep my hands where they belong.”

Derek let out a loud huff,  “Fine. Just put a can in it. I’m not keen for another run in with your aunt so how about you come past my place tonight at seven.”

Stiles winked, “That just happens to be my very favorite time of night.”

“Take a seat Dylan, before I change my mind,” Derek said, returning to his work. Stiles took a seat in the front row, waiting for the bell to ring, not trying to hide the fact he was staring at Derek. Every now and then Derek would look up, meet eyes with Stiles then look back down faster than he’d looked up.

***

Stiles was fixing himself a grilled cheese when Erica sauntered in and slammed a bottle of brandy on the kitchen table, “Want a drink? Think I need one after the day I’ve had. I did a little snooping about the Hale’s, playing the new gal in town who wants Mr. Derek Hale to lay a shiny ring on her finger angle.”

Stiles turned the grill off and turned to her, leaning his back on the countertop, “Okay, I’ll bite, what did you find?”

“Well it seems everyone in this town knows all about the Hale’s, well most of the Hale’s, your teach is the only one without a story. Literally the only thing people say about him is ‘He’s so handsome, he needs a girl like you in his life,’ before entering into an hour of Hale gossip.”

“I’m not interested in hearing about Derek,” Stiles lied.

She grinned as she poured herself a brandy taking a seat at the table “It’s Derek now?” Stiles shook his head, warning her not to start. She laughed, “Fine. The Hale’s built this town, they were about as old as money gets. Generations of Mayors, the last one was Derek’s father. After the war when the drugs started filtering back into the schools he tried to clean up the town, and he almost did until the Hale Mansion was burnt to the ground in forty-eight. Derek and his sister were the only survivors because they were both away at school, Derek military school and Laura, the sister was at Berkeley.”

“And Mr. Hale.”

“Yes, Peter Hale, he seems to not have been living in Beacon Hills at the time. Then we have the next Hale scandal, which was Laura, coming back to town about seven years ago with a black husband. The way people talk it’s seems they found this to be even bigger news than the fire. What was his… Vernon Boyd,” she shook her head regretfully.

“Was?”

“Killed. Laura was pregnant, almost lost the baby she was so broken up. Tragic yes? Bet you thought nothing worse could happen to that family right? So did the people of Beacon Hills until Laura showed up dead in the preserve four years ago, all black-dahlia like.”

Stiles grabbed the grilled cheese, throwing it on a plate, “I’ll be in my room.”

***

“Can I get you a water, milk?” Derek asked as Stiles sat down on the couch, laying out his schoolwork on the coffee table.

“Beer would be solid.”

Derek came out of the kitchen with a glass of water for each of them and sat down next to Stiles, “Nice try kid.”

“Kid?” Stiles laughed, “So I uhh, heard your uncle owns the Hop Spot.”

“Does he?” Derek sounded uninterested.

“He’s your uncle not mine.”

Derek laughed with a cruel tone, “What are you caught up in? Why are you asking about him?”

Stiles mouth gaped open for once a quick lie wasn’t coming to him. “A stud’s gotta make his bread sometime. Strictly small time, nothing you needa worry bout pops.”

Derek stood and held Stiles’ wrist, studying his face, before leaning in and murmuring into his ear, “You think I don’t notice that when we’re alone you slip and drop the jive talk?”

“I’ll stay away from you,” Stiles whispered, Derek was sitting too close to him and it was hard to think of a witty rejoinder when he could feel Derek’s breath ghosting on his neck and face.

Derek pulled away, nodding his head, but still held firmly on to Stiles’ wrist. Stiles couldn’t look away from Derek’s green eyes, even though he knew he needed to. He had to stay away from Derek, for so many reasons he could barely keep track of them. It had been about a minute before Stiles realized that Derek had been staring right back into his eyes. ‘Don’t do it Stiles,’ he chanted in his head about ten times before pulling Derek flush against him. He gave Derek about three seconds to pull away before wrapping his free arm around Derek’s neck and kissing him, the sounds of the outside world fading away when Derek’s tongue met his and sighed into the kiss.

Their kiss wasn’t short this time, it didn’t end with Derek pushing him away, or with fucking on the living room floor. It was a back-row of the cinema kind of kiss. The type of kiss that in and of itself was enough was everything, the kind of kiss that goes on and on like time is an abstract concept, the room darkening the only indicator of time passing.

When their mouths were dry and lips chaffed from rough evening stubble they finally pulled apart. Derek rested his forehead against Stiles, running both of his hands down Stiles’ side. After a while, when their breathing had leveled, Derek started, “Dyl— “

Stiles pulled his head away and shook his head, “Don’t.”

His heart clenched. He’d never fallen for anyone, sure there were guys he liked more than others, but after kissing Derek he knew he’d never come close with anyone else. It was a cruel joke realizing how deep his feelings but to know that he and Derek could never be more than a stolen kiss in a dark room.

“You don’t—“ Derek said with painful look, expression guiltier than most murderers and dealers he’d encountered. Derek rubbed his forehead then finally followed up, “This is illegal. Do you even really understand the consequences of this behavior? It’s five to life and that’s if you’re lucky and don’t get sent to Atascadero State and get fixed up with a lobotomy or castration.”

“What about your life?”

Derek fixed his eyes on the floor, “Esme is my life, they’d take her from me,” Derek’s body froze, before his head dropped into his hands, elbows on knees, “We shouldn’t be talking about this, it doesn’t matter. You need to leave.”

Stiles studied the tightness of Derek’s strong shoulders that curled towards his chest as he breathed shallowly, face still in hands, “Derek, have you ever been with —  ”

Derek’s face shot up, looking at Stiles sadly, “Please don’t.”

“Because of Esme?”

“I never wanted to— I don’t want to be this way.”

“Oh,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, his heart started beating a little faster, “So you and I, was that the first—“

“Yes,” he ground out. Derek turned to him, his face impossibly close again, “I can’t it’s too reckless… I knew I should have said no to you coming here tonight, but when you look at me. Fuck. It’s like I’m possessed by you. I’ve never given in, always fought it, and yet after all these years with no effort at all you’ve unraveled me.” Stiles put his hand on Derek’s knee, Derek touched the hand once, his face regretful. Stiles knew what was coming even before Derek stood, and fixed his eyes firmly on the plant to the far right of Stiles, avoiding eye contact, “We’re not going to— this isn’t gonna happen. I’m sorry.”

Stiles nodded his head in resignation, clapped his hands on the tops of his thighs and stood, “Alright teach. I’ll take a bite of air.”

Derek took a long deep breath and nodded in agreement walking Stiles to the door. Derek had his hand on the doorknob when he turned suddenly, and for a fraction of a second Stiles was sure Derek was going to kiss him. But he didn’t, he only studied Stiles’ face for a moment before opening the door, “Goodbye Dylan.”

Stiles didn’t respond, but felt Derek’s eyes on him all the way down the path and out the gate to his car. As he climbed in the driver’s side he looked up for a moment, catching Derek quickly looking away before he shut his front door.

***

Stiles tried to ignore the sinking feeling every time he looked at Derek… Mr. Hale in class. He was supposed to be the top stud with the prettiest pet in school, and as much as he wanted to care, he just didn’t. He wanted Derek so bad it burned him and after their kiss he couldn’t think of much else.

Derek sat upon the edge of his desk in front of the class, “Now I heard a boy the other day, not naming names before you ask Miss Martin, now this boy was referring to the ‘enormity’ of a certain part of his anatomy. While he may have been right about it’s monstrous wickedness, it should be noted the meaning of the word is in no way an indicator of size.”

The class erupted into laughter, “Oh go on Coach, was it Jackson?” Lydia smirked.

“Well you would know better than anyone about the enormity of my—“

Derek grinned, pointing at Jackson, “Not enormity Mr. Whittemore. Enormous? Probably wishful thinking, but again, enormity means vicious not large.”

Jackson smiled with satisfaction then turned to Lydia, “Oh yeah it’s vicious too.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Jackson, “What a line.”

“Which brings me back to my point from earlier…” Derek said.

After class, Stiles, for the fourth time that week had stopped himself from staying on after class despite the overwhelming need to spend every single second for the rest of his life being near Derek. Derek looked up at him and held his gaze as Stiles walked slowly to the door, “Mr. O’Brein—“ he started as Stiles walked past his desk, but then stopped when Lydia jumped on Stiles’ back, wrapping her arms around him.

“We gonna have a ball tonight or what daddy?” she laughed in his ear. Derek turned away, dusting the chalk off the board.

“What was that teach?” Stiles asked, softly nudging Lydia off of him.

Derek turned with the widest phoniest smile Stiles had ever seen, “It can wait until class tomorrow.”

***

Stiles kept his end of the deal with Peter pushed his weed around school, or at least as far as Peter knew that’s what he was doing. All anyone really knew was that Stiles had unloaded so much weed that the regulars were dry and begging for more. Kids were desperate for it making Stiles look like he’d gotten them so hooked that they needed more than ever.

Jackson cornered him in the locker room again, “You done good boy. Mr. H wants to see you tonight. Eight o’clock sharp.”

Stiles smirked at Jackson and patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t look so glum, some of us were just meant for greatness.”

“Rupture head,” Jackson scowled before storming back out of the locker room, leaving Stiles to finish dressing.

Like a bad habit, Stiles was the last to come out of school again and as he headed to his car spotted Derek sitting in his car in the empty lot. The key wasn’t even in the ignition, he was just sitting there focusing on the trees that lined the sports field just ahead of the parking lot. Stiles leaned down over the passenger side, studying Derek’s blank expression. “Car problems?”

Derek’s head shot to his right to look at Stiles, like he hadn’t heard him approaching, “No.”

“Are you— What happened?”

Derek’s lips tightened, before he turned away from Stiles to look out the drivers side of the car, “You,” he said and before Stiles had a chance to respond he had his key in the engine, and was driving away, leaving Stiles confused and alone in the parking lot.

***

Stiles walked into Peter’s office not a minute before or after eight that night. Peter was sitting behind his desk. “Take a seat,” he said to Stiles, then ignored him for the next thirty seconds before squeezing his eyelids shut for a moment then tapped something under the desk, “leave now.”

Stiles frowned and went to stand, “I thought you wanted to—“

“Not you,” he said with a roll of his eyes, before a girl Stiles recognized from school emerged from underneath the desk, letting herself out of the office without acknowledging Stiles, “tell me, as a student in my nephews class, what’s your read?”

Stiles shrugged, “L7 man.”

Peter nodded, “Okay… okay… I’ve left him alone for the sake of the orphan, but my kindness only extends so far.”

“Oh?”

“That bust the other day was no coincidence, I’ve seen it before, his sister tried it once. She’s no longer a problem, you hear me?”

“Louder than an earthquake.”

Peter grinned, “A kid like you could go far with that attitude.”

Stiles raised his hands and shook his head, “I’m a killer-diller but I’m no killer.”

Peter laughed, “Don’t need you to be, I’m the hands on type,” he looked at Stiles pointedly, “I guess you could say sometimes I like it when someone crosses me.”

“And Mr. Hale crossed you?

“I let him walk around for too long, it’s my own fault, I’m a bleeding heart.”

“Why you wising me up?”

Peter grinned cruelly, “Because I don’t kill children so if you want the H you’re going to make sure the kid is elsewhere when I pay a not-so-friendly visit to her uncle.”

“Where is elsewhere?”

“She has a nanny, you make sure she’s with her.”

Stiles swallowed the lump in the back of his throat, “And then I’ll be in with you?”

“You do this for me, you consider yourself head creep, or whatever it is you fools call yourself.”

Stiles forced a smile and leaned over the desk to shake Peter’s hand, “When is this going down?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll send word in plenty of time.”

“And the H?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah, okay, what do you need?”

“Half a kilo.”

Peter smirked again, “Cost you a lot of bread.”

Stiles grinned, “I’m bready.”

“I’ve got a ship sailing in early next week.”

He frowned, “That’s a long—”

“If you want the best, you’ll wait and if you’re wise you’ll do what I requested.”

Stiles nodded, “Look, I’m on the beam, but I don’t wanna get caught up in a murder wrap.”

“You think this is my first time at the rodeo?”

“He isn’t going to let me in his house, I’m just some lousy student.”

“He’s gotta be a lonely guy, I’m sure if you lay it on enough he’ll fall for it.”

Stiles coughed, “Lay on what?”

Peter laughed, “Never knew a teenager to spend so much time locked in his room jerking off. Yet, he’s what, twenty eight? No dame in sight. What do you think?”

Stiles eyes widened, his expression shocked, “Hey dad, I don’t swing that way.”

“Well you’ll pretend you do until it’s over. If it helps, when you bat those eyelashes that belong on a dame at him, you can take comfort in the fact that he’ll be six feet under before the week is through.”

“What makes you think he’d even—“

“Let’s just say Derek’s attention to you in class hasn’t gone unnoticed,” Peter shook his head with confusion, “I had Jackson do everything but get under Derek’s desk to suck his dick but he didn’t bat an eye at him. Honestly I can’t see why, Jackson looks like a matinee idol, whereas you? The moment you turn around I’ll already have forgotten what you look like. No accounting for taste I suppose.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

“How may I direct your call?” the nasally secretary answered.

“Special Agent in Charge, please.”

The line crackled before he heard the tired voice say, “You’re speaking with Special Agent Stilinski.”

“Don’t sound so burned man,” Stiles laughed down the phone, “it’s just me pops.”

“Stiles,” his dad sighed loudly, “you know you’re not actually a teenager.”

“It’s called method acting.”

Stiles heard his dad breathe loudly down the phone, his patience with Stiles was always precarious, “Sheriff Argent tells me you spent a few hours in lock up last week.”

“Sure did,” Stiles laughed down the phone.

“It worries me that you enjoy being arrested so much.”

 “We all gotta get our kicks somehow pops.”

 “How’s Erica?”

“The whole aunt bit is getting pretty rough. Who has a twenty seven year old aunt?”

“Plenty of eighteen year olds. I’d think you’d be happy to have a beautiful woman your age that you were allowed to get close to.”

Stiles cringed, “Oh.”

“You’ll be twenty six in a few weeks, you were four already when I was that age.”

Stiles coughed, “I don’t think a wife and kid is gonna help sell the role of eternal teen.”

“Maybe not, you don’t have to have children right away. But if you were to take a shine to someone like Erica, who you worked with, there’s no reason you couldn’t—“

“I’m not interested in Erica.”

His dad laughed, “Now son, she’s about twenty years too young for me, but I still have eyes. No red-blooded man would say no to that girl.”

There was an awkward silence, until Stiles filled it with, “Erica has a guy back home. Have you seen me pops? I’m a class A putz, she’s too good for me.”

“Fair enough,” his dad said with a hint of sadness, “there are other girls. Anytime you want to come out of undercover, there are other investigations that—“

“I like it, Sir.”

“I’m just concerned, you followed me into this job, and ’ve missed out on the thing that every man deserves because of it.”

Stiles took a deep breath, the knot of guilt once again twisting in his stomach, “I like what I do. If missing out on a bit of female companionship means I don’t have to read another report on a 15 year old girl dying because she liked needles a little too much, then I’m okay with it.”

“I’m proud of you, son. You’re wrong, but I’m proud.”

“Sir, I called for a reason, Peter Hale has informed me of his intent to kill his nephew.”

“Stiles, your old friend Agent Lahey from the FBI will be in Beacon Hills within the next few days. You know the motto, where one king falls another takes his place, you can’t lose this case, the FBI have Hale as their top suspect for what looks like nine homicides now and if they get to Hale before you do then we’ve just lost five months undercover work.”

“I understand sir, but…”

“You know the procedure Stiles, if you’re concerned for this man’s safety you know exactly where the safe houses are.”

“You mean like the one in Salinas where the family of five were killed last month?”

“Son, it was an isolated incident.”

“Don’t worry sir, I’ll make sure to follow up on whose next in line tomorrow night at the drags.”

***

Stiles knocked on Derek’s door. He was about two seconds from giving up when a sleepy looking Derek answered the door in nothing but his shorts.

“Dylan,” he said, eyes darting around the street before pulling him inside and shutting the door behind Stiles, “why you here?”

Stiles meant to answer, really, but Derek was standing in front of him half naked and his brain had stopped functioning. They stood facing each other unmoving. Stiles eyes following Derek’s adam’s apple as he gulped, then after the longest time, or maybe no time at all he said, “You need to know some things.”

Derek nodded and took Stiles’ hand, leading him through the house and into the only room with a light on, Derek’s bedroom. Oh. Stiles looked down at the bed, messy, slept in, and the thought of that was too much. When Derek kicked his door shut and lunged towards him, arms around his neck, body flush, mouth biting, he didn’t stop him. Stiles kissed Derek back like the world was ending. He let himself run his hands along Derek’s bare sides, his hand sneaking along his defined chest, stopping at the waist band of Derek’s shorts before he remembered himself and pulled away. Derek resisted and pulled him closer to kiss, Derek’s hands snaking and teasing just below Stiles’ belt.

About the same moment he had the thought to slam Derek down on his bed he also realized that he had to stop, despite never have wanting anything so bad than he wanted to be naked beside Derek. He pulled away softly and tried to catch Derek’s eye, ignoring the large hard length that was pressing in against his leg. “Derek, I really did come here to talk.”

Derek looked like a child when he let Stiles go, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck. No don’t be. You make me hurt so bad I can’t think,” Stiles was about to sit before he thought better of it, the need to move overwhelming. He lapped the room a few times before he’d worked up the confidence, finally blurting out, “My name isn’t Dylan. It’s Stiles.”

Derek frowned, asking with an incredulous tone, “Stiles?”

“Beats Kazimeirz, you get called a commie enough, you drop your grandfather’s name.”

“You’re polish?”

“Only on my parents side.”

Derek smiled, failing to understand where Stiles was taking the conversation, “I knew a Russian girl who did the same back in college. Changed her name to Mary Jane, failed to see the irony.”

Stiles laughed before stopping his frantic laps of the floor, and standing in front of Derek. Stiles took a deep breath, felt the bile rise up in his stomach before blurting in one breath, “Derek. Fuck, I don’t know how to do this I’ve never had to do this before so, okay, here goes. I’m twenty-five, not eighteen. I’m an agent with the Federal Bureau of Narcotics.” Derek frowned, but didn’t respond. Stiles prayed that his instinct to trust Derek was right. “I couldn’t tell you. I’m not even allowed to tell you right now.“

“Is this what this was all about? Seducing me to get information on Peter?” He spat out angrily, loud enough that Esme would have heard him if she were awake before he cringed slightly, possibly thinking the same thing as Stiles.

“No. Fuck. Derek, you can’t possibly think the United States government would allow their agents to engage in immoral acts, even for a case. They’d rather see me shoot up H or be killed on the job before I drop to my knees in front of you. This,” he gestured between them, “this is, fucking hell, this is me being unprofessional. This is me risking my cover, putting kids in danger all because I can’t stay away from you. The moment I saw you I was done.”

Derek considered Stiles’ words for a minute, ten minutes, forever maybe before finally looking back up at Stiles, “You make a habit of being unprofessional?”

Stiles shook his head, “I’ve never been tempted.”

“Why are you blowing your cover, telling me this now?”

“Your uncle thinks you’re working with the police. I don’t know why, he doesn’t share much. He wants you gone, and he’s going to do it himself. Even if it means blowing this whole case to dust I’m not going to leave you and Esme sitting ducks.”

Derek breathed in deeply, holding the breath in for so long Stiles’ considered that Derek may faint, but when he finally exhaled quickly he nodded his head, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay I should be demanding to speak to someone at the FBN to confirm your story, but I won’t. I guess you haven’t given me a reason to, but I trust you, Dyla— Stiles. Stiles.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek’s nervous face, “No. No you don’t, not yet, but you will.”

“What do we do next?”

“I need to get you and Esme out of town, you can stay at my house in LA. You’ll be safe there until this is all over,” Stiles rubbed his forehead as he tried to figure out a plan as he spoke, “you need to leave your car here. Does your nanny come watch Esme on the weekends?”

“No, only during the weekdays. But if I leave my car here, how—“

“I’ll drive tonight, no one will miss me, I’ll be back in time for the drag tomorrow night, we’ll leave in an hour when it’s late enough that no one will spot us. Pack a bag, and whatever Esme needs to sleep in the backseat.”

Derek hesitated for a moment, then nodded his head and stood, pulling out a small blue suitcase from under his bed.

***

It was seven hours to LA, six if you drive fast enough, but because of the beautiful little girl wrapped up in a blanket stretched across the back seat of his car, they’d be lucky if they made it in eight hours with the speed Stiles was driving. Derek was asleep, head against the passenger window of the car; he’d fought it, but after an hour Stiles realized Derek was out cold. Stiles had to look away and keep his eyes on the long stretches of dark California highway because the sight of Derek sleeping was enough to veer him off the road, or want to pull over and just watch his face.

It was about two when Derek woke with a jump, eyes darting around the car in confusion before his eyes met Stiles’ in the unlit Cadillac. Stiles’ chest tightened when Derek smiled sleepily at Stiles and then barely above a whisper said, “Hey.”

“Sleep okay?”

“I can sleep anywhere.”

Stiles laughed, “So, the opposite of me. I’m not big on sleep.”

“I’m sorry I flipped on you earlier, I… I get it, you can’t just go around blowing your cover.”

“I’ve been doing this for seven years, first time I’ve ever wanted to blow my cover. I didn’t like it. I’d rather never have had to blow it than do it for the reason that I did tonight.”

The road stretched on and on, the putrid smell of the abattoir on the I-5 filling the car despite the windows being rolled. Derek finally turned to him again, “I’ve been beating myself up over how far my depravity had gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. My uncle wasn’t wrong about me. When the school wouldn’t let me talk to the kids I made an anonymous tip to the police about the drugs in Beacon Hills, didn’t name Peter, I don’t know who he has on his payroll. After watching him destroy everyone I love, after what he did to Laura I just couldn’t take it anymore. I thought my call had been ignored, but then there was the bust the other night, and well… I guess someone was listening because here you are.”

“He got Laura hooked on H?”

“All those years of Peter trying to get us to push, we both resisted. She was beautiful and smart, so smart. I never could keep track of all languages she spoke. She met Vernon at UCLA in a French class, he was infatuated from the moment he saw her he said. I never saw her so happy than the day she moved back to Beacon Hills with Vernon on her arm. People sneered at them, but she just winked back. That’s the kind of girl she was,” Derek’s voice choked up a little, he took a shaky breath before he continued, “she cried when she found out she was pregnant, she was so happy and Vernon was in a blissful daze for weeks. I’ve never seen any two people so in love. They never found who did it, Vernon was strung up in a tree out in the preserve while Laura was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him to come home. She woke still at the kitchen table in the morning with the sound of the Sheriff knocking on the door, and she just broke. Spent the last month of her pregnancy in hospital because she had refused to eat, couldn’t function. Peter was there for her when she was released from the hospital. She didn’t even sign the birth certificate, refused to name her. I chose Esme because it was from Laura’s favorite story.”

“So why did he kill her?”

“I’d been on an extended break from the Ventura Braves after Vernon died so was staying in Laura’s house, she stopped living with us when Esme was about two months old. Just abandoned her home, but she’d visit, always scared to touch or look at Esme too long. The day that Esme called her Mommy was the day she decided to get clean. I was helping her through it, it was horrible, but she wanted it. She was so angry with Peter for dragging her into his world she wanted him off the streets. I think she started talking to the police. She was dead within a month. He killed my sister.  Esme will never know her mother because of him.”

Stiles hesitated before he reached out his hand and softly squeezed Derek’s, “We’ll get him.”

He heard Derek take another loud breath, before he threaded his fingers through Stiles’ and shut his eyes. They drove in silence through the next three towns before he felt Derek’s grip loosen slightly on Stiles’ hand, when he looked over he saw Derek sleeping again against the window. Stiles had never held hands before, sure he’d fucked more guys in cheap hotel rooms and the back alleys of seedy joints than he could begin to remember, but never held hands and he didn’t think he ever wanted to let go.

***

It was four am when Stiles pulled up to his house, taking his hand from Derek’s before he nudged Derek awake. Derek tilted his head to the side to take in Stiles’ small bungalow surrounded by palm trees, “Thought you said you lived in LA?

Stiles took the key out of the ignition, “Welcome to Venice.”

Derek nodded like he was processing the information, “I imagined you living in some Hollywood apartment.”

Stiles laughed, “Maybe Dylan would. But, uhhh, that’s not really me. I’m not home often, but when I am I like the privacy. Nobody really knows me here. It helps me focus.”

“On?”

Stiles shrugged, “Sometimes I write. That’s what I studied at college. In high school I read, _The City and The Pillar,_ and I thought I you know, I want to do what Gore Vidal does. My dad was doing a long time sting at USC, and I was already a student there so I joined the FBN, figured I do it for kicks and then use it for a story. Turns out I’m really good at playing make-believe, and I really hate pushers. The writing only happens between cases though, so you know, never.”

Esme stirred in the back seat, sitting up a little, looking between Derek and Stiles then said, “You’re wrong, I’m not a pirate captain.” Stiles was confused, but Derek just grinned and nudged Stiles as she stared ahead, eyes wide open.

“She’s asleep, she does this sometimes,” he clicked his fingers in front of her but she didn’t blink, “she usually just lies back down after awhile.”

“Good, because you know, I’m not the kinda person to just accuse a girl of being a pirate captain without solid evidence.” Derek grinned at him and it made Stiles feel like someone was sitting on his chest. He tapped the steering wheel once and nodded awkwardly, “Okay so I’ll take your bag if you wanna bring the pirate captain inside.”

Stiles was impressed with how quickly Derek had Esme settled and back to sleep in Stiles’ spare room, “She’ll probably be out till eight thirty,” he turned his head to study Stiles, “aren’t you just dead on your feet?”

Stiles shrugged, “Like I said, me and Sleep, we’ve got a pretty casual arrangement. You can take my room, I fall asleep on the couch most of the time anyway.”

Derek paused for a moment before nodding and heading toward Stiles’ bedroom, stopping at the door to say, “Thank you Stiles, I’m starting to think if they’d sent anyone else Esme would be an orphan.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Stiles said as he laid out the blanket on the couch.

“I know,” Derek smiled before shutting the door behind him to Stiles’ room.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles woke to Esme sitting on his legs and the television blasting. Derek walked out from the kitchen, wearing only his undershirt and jeans, “Switch that off Esme, Stiles is trying to sleep. Come help me find something edible.”

She sighed loudly, “But daddy, you always let me watch Saturday morning television.”

“Well not—“

Stiles sat up on the couch, giving himself a better view of Derek in his undershirt, “I’m awake. You watch Howdy Doody baby girl, I’ll help your Dad.”

She beamed at Derek before appropriating the blanket Stiles had been sleeping under and wrapped it around herself as she got comfortable on the couch. Derek smirked before walking back into the kitchen, Stiles following him a minute later after brushing his teeth so hard his gums hurt.

“Any luck?” he enquired, eyes fixed on Derek’s ass he bent over searching through the bottom shelves of the pantry.

Derek sighed, “You have a can of baked beans, five cans of pea and ham soup, and saltine crackers.”

“Well to be fair, I haven’t been home in five months.”

“We’re going to need to go to Ralphs—“ Derek started as he turned to face Stiles, then for some reason stopped talking, just stared at Stiles.

Stiles quickly looked behind him, but Esme was sitting happily in front of the television still, “Is everything okay?”

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Stiles looked down at his bare chest and shorts, “Oh, sorry is that…? I didn’t think about Esme.” Then with an awkward shrug added, “I get hot when I sleep.”

Derek just nodded in a daze before penning Stiles against the kitchen cabinets beside him holding the countertop but not touching Stiles, “How am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you walk around like that?”

Stiles gulped, hoping Derek hadn’t noticed how pathetically turned on he was from Derek’s sudden lasciviousness. “You don’t have to keep your hands off of me.”

“That so?” Derek raised his eyebrow his lips curled in a strange smile, before sweeping his eyes back down Stiles’ chest.

“Hell Derek, you know you send me.”

Derek took his right hand off the countertop, dragging his fingertips lightly along Stiles’ collar bone, following it down the small patch of chest hair then moving back up to repeat the movement from the other side. Derek leaned in close, his lips ticking Stiles’ ear as he spoke, “How far?”

“Are you teasing me? I don’t think I can—“

Derek bit the skin just below his ear, while his fingers moved lower tracing the path of hair that led towards his dick from his belly button. Derek bit his neck again, further down, and harder this time, distracting Stiles momentarily from Derek’s hand snaking into his pants, fingers and palm circling around his erection. Stiles’ eyes darted to the lounge, surprised that Esme was oblivious to what was happening in the kitchen. Derek tightened his grip on Stiles’ dick, causing Stiles to groan, he hadn’t expected Derek to touch him at all, let alone jerk him off in the middle of his kitchen at 10 in the morning.

“Okay so not a tease, fuck,” Stiles whispered.

Derek laughed, lips still on Stiles’ neck. He resumed his biting but this time it was of Stiles’ lips, not even kissing, just soft bites, his hand stroking steadily in Stiles’ shorts. Stiles was humiliatingly close to coming, when usually another guys hand did little more than get him hard. He wanted to touch or to kiss, but Derek’s jeans were too high to unbutton without making him drop them too far, and every time he tried to lick into Derek’s mouth Derek bit harder, distracting Stiles from his goal because with every bite he moved closer to the edge.

Derek was making quiet noises like he was getting fucked, despite the fact that he wasn’t being touched, wasn’t even trying to rub himself against Stiles like most men would. Listening to Derek get off just from touching him was too much. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and brought him in to kiss. Derek didn’t resist, just moaned softly into the kiss as Stiles kissed his bottom lip before Derek plunged his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth, the meeting of their tongues sending shivers down Stiles’ spine. Derek let out a weak whimper in the back of his throat, sending Stiles over the edge, coating Derek’s hand and the inside of his shorts with his come.

Derek pulled his hand out of Stiles’ shorts and wiped it on the dishtowel lying next to Stiles on the countertop, before leaning back in to kiss Stiles again, this time their kisses became quickly interspersed with laughter.

“What’s so funny Dad?”

Derek froze, shooting his head around to face Esme, “Stiles just told me a very funny joke about boring adult things.”

She turned up her nose then padded back to the couch.

 “I’m sor—“ Stiles started but Derek cut him off with a kiss. Minutes passed and the only thought Stiles had was ‘I’m in love with… your kiss.’ Derek’s hands started stoking down his sides again before he gripped Stiles’ ass and pulled his body close. He pushed his hips against Stiles’ and for the first time Stiles’ felt Derek’s erection straining against the thick denim, “Jesus.”

Derek pulled back, looking at Stiles nervously, making Stiles’ heart clench. The way Derek swung so violently between formidable and guileless did things to Stiles. He’d just pushed his dick up against Stiles, and now he looked worried that he’d taken things too far, as if he hadn’t just jerked Stiles off only minutes ago. Stiles grinned, pushing off from where Derek had him pinned and taking his hand.

Derek seemed confused but he followed Stiles through to the lounge, “Hey little lady, we’re going to run you a bath. Do you want to turn the television off and come help?”

Esme frowned, then looked from Stiles to Derek, “Dadddddddy can you please ask Uncle Stiles if I can watch for a little bit longer? I’ll be really really good. I’ll even eat an extra spoonful of peas tonight. Pleeeease?”

Derek grinned at Stiles, then sighed at Esme, “Two extra spoons and you’ve got a deal.”

She lit up, grinning a gap-toothed smile, “Deal,” then turned back to the television eager not to miss another moment.

“Uncle Stiles?”

Derek looked over at her before shrugging, “She’s a little overeager to grow our two person family, guess she likes you.” Derek blushed a little, perhaps realizing the implication of the statement, “That was some impressive child manipulation, where’d you pick that up from?”

“Comes with being an older brother.” Stiles shrugged dismissively, used to blocking out the memories behind that statement. Before Derek could follow up Stiles pulled him toward the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

Derek opened his mouth to say something but Stiles had him planted against the door, lips on lips before he had a chance to get words out. In the privacy of the bathroom their kiss became rough, Derek’s morning stubble was like sandpaper to his lips but Stiles liked it. Derek moaned and Stiles pulled back a little before running his hand down from Derek’s chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath his undershirt as his hands moved closer to Derek’s dick. Stiles dipped his finger below the waistband just to touch the skin sitting underneath it, then dragged his hand roughly against the enclosed erection, “Fuck,” Derek said a little too loudly, but the television down the hall was louder.

Stiles unbuttoned Derek’s jeans, pulling them down as he sank to his knees. Derek was wearing jockeys, his dick straining against the fabric and stretching all the way to his hip bone. Stiles stroked his hand along the intimidating length, before mouthing the thin fabric over the head of Derek’s cock. Derek hissed, when Stiles hooked his fingers on each side of the waistband and pulled the jockeys down below his cock.

“Jesus no wonder you need to wear these things,” he laughed before leaning in, wrapping his lips around the head of Derek’s cock.

Derek’s hands shot straight to his head, his fingers threading through Stiles’ hair, and pulling as Stiles added his hand, twisting to meet his mouth as he bobbed down on Derek’s dick. Stiles knew that making Derek come wasn’t going to keep him in his life, but it didn’t stop him from pulling out every dick sucking technique he’d developed, just in case. It didn’t take long either, Stiles was tonguing the head of Derek’s dick before sinking back down when Derek yanked on his hair and didn’t let go, the sound escaping from his throat almost sounded like he was crying. Stiles looked up at him as Derek came down his throat, Derek’s eyes were shut tight, framed by tears on the corner of each eye.

Derek lost his balance a little when he took his hands out of Stiles’ hair as Stiles licked his dick clean. Stiles pulled away, and bit back a smile when Derek grabbed Stiles’ shoulder to stop himself from falling over. Derek looked a little dazed, his mouth gaped open and shut.

“Alright there cowboy?” Stiles grinned up at him.

 Derek shook his head before hauling Stiles up to standing, “I’m all the way unraveled by you.” Stiles pushed forward, kissing Derek, letting him taste himself on Stiles’ tongue, “Fuck.”

Esme laughed loudly at the television, bringing them both back to reality and causing them both to erupt into a fit of laughter. Stiles pulled away reluctantly, walking over to the bathtub and turning the taps on to fill. He was still bent over when Derek grabbed him from behind and started biting the back of Stiles’ neck, as he ran his hands along the front of Stiles’ chest. Stiles twisted around and kissed Derek back while the bath filled, letting Derek bite and suck on his neck until the bath water almost reached the top. Derek pulled back this time, shutting off the taps and kissed Stiles one last time before unlocking the bathroom door and calling out to Esme.

Stiles heard Esme grumble but she switched off the television and walked to the bathroom without argument. “I’m not even stinky!” she pouted. Derek gave her the look that Stiles had been on the receiving end of too many times as Derek’s student in class, it was his, whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying look. She sighed loudly and changed out of her clothes, climbing in the bath.

Stiles sat on the bench next to the bath that housed the towels, happy when Derek followed him, sitting way closer than was necessary. Esme starting singing as she splashed around in the bath, “ _It was a one eyed one horned flying purple people eater one eyed—_ “

 Derek’s laughter had come back and Stiles was only barely containing his, “What are you singing baby?”

She shook her head patronizingly, “It’s the most popular song daddy,” then she sighed, dipping her hair back into the water, “I suppose it’s just a gerational thing.”

“What’s gerational?” Stiles asked.

Esme’s eyes lit up and she leaned her arms and face over the bathtub to look at Stiles, “Miss Morrell talks about gerational things all the time. She says people were far less accepting of us in the geration before this one and there are people who are trying to make the next geration better. When I asked what it meant she said it was like how grown ups and teenagers don’t like the same music.”

Derek smiled widely at the child, then tilted his head toward Stiles, “Ms. Morrell is Esme’s nanny.”

Esme nodded, “She’s black just like my other daddy in heaven is black and I am too, well a part of me, I haven’t figured out what part yet.”

“You’re very lucky,” Stiles smiled.

“I know,” she preened, before submerging under the water, when she came up she added, “In case you were wondering I’m a mermaid.”

Esme floated around in the bathtub singing the purple people eater song again, back in her own world. Stiles grinned then turned to Derek, whose eyes were firmly planted on Stiles’ face, not bothering to hide the fact he was staring. “Folks always say spare the rod, but I’m beginning to think they’re all wrong. Esme is perfect.”

“Thanks. I kinda had to make things up as I went. My father was very much the disciplinarian. I didn’t want Esme to be scared of me the way we often were as children. When my father took to us with the belt we always had our mother, who was,” he smiled sadly, “she was warmth. I’m all Esme has, I want to be warmth too.”

Stiles smiled then looked away, taking a deep breath, every word Derek said made Stiles bleed for him just that little bit more, “I wish I could hold your hand again,” he said to the wall.

He jumped when Derek took his hand, and if Stiles hadn’t been listening to that beautiful little girl singing off key in the bath tub, he’d almost believe they had a future that extended past midday when he had to leave for Beacon Hills again. They sat in comfortable silence, Stiles enjoying the rightness of the feeling of Derek’s hand in his. Derek squeezed his hand lightly, his expression suddenly dour as he turned to Stiles, “I don’t know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

Derek’s jaw tightened, he looked down at Esme then down at his feet, “Everything. I want to know everything about you.”

Stiles laughed, “Might take awhile.”

“I wish we lived in a world where we were allowed that time. That we could have forever to—“ he shook his head, like if he did it hard enough he could shake the thoughts he didn’t want to have right out of his mind. “You said you were an older brother?”

It was Stiles head for the emotive shake of head, “Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s life isn’t it? Ethan and Aiden. The Stilinski twins. My mom just didn’t show to pick me up from school one day. That was it. We went from a family of five to me and my dad. The local Sheriff implied she’d done it on purpose, driven off Mulholland, but I… we refused to believe she would.”

“Can I get out now?” Esme whined from the tub, “it’s getting cold and I’m hungry like a tree on a hill with a giraffe gobbling the leaves.”

The grim mood was quickly lifted, Stiles and Derek both smiling at her, Derek whispering as he stood to get a towel, “Hasn’t quite mastered the concept of using similes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will keep updating over the next two days until complete fic is up xx


	10. Chapter 10

Two hours later everyone had been fed and Stiles and Derek had bought enough groceries to last a week. Stiles wondered if Derek had noticed the pure indifference by the Venice locals to two white men and a clearly mixed race kid grocery shopping together, and hoped he was thinking about how it would be a better place for he and Esme to live. Stiles could feel the clock ticking every minute passed with Derek and Esme. He needed to leave in the next half hour to make it back to the drag race before anyone noticed he was gone.

He drove into the gas station, one of the only two people Stiles actually knew in Venice was the owner Deaton, who was instantly charmed by Esme the moment they pulled up.

The ragtop was down so Esme was instantly hanging over the back of the car watching Deaton pump the gas and talking a mile a minute.

“This year I’m going to be a vampire and I’ll have sharp teeth and cape and there will be blood coming out. It will be very scary.”

Deaton looked confused, maybe a little concerned before Derek grinned, “She’s talking about Halloween,” and then to Esme, “honey it’s nine months away.”

“That’s how long it takes to plan Daddy!” She cried. “Daniel said I had to be a mermaid because I love them but I said that he is a doody—“

“Esme,” Derek warned.

“Stinke—“

“Nope.”

Esme groaned, “He is wrong and I can be even scarier than him cos he doesn’t even know how to make blood but my daddy does because he used to do plays in the olden days.”

Stiles turned to Derek as Esme yattered on to Deaton, “You did?”

“No, I took a theatre class in college. I’m sure if you asked her if I’d ever been to sea she’d tell you I was a deep sea diver.”

Stiles burst into laughter, but Derek frowned, “It’s not that funny.”

“I’m a deep sea diver,” Stiles winked, nodding his head in the direction of Derek’s crotch. Derek’s eyes widened before he laughed as well.

Stiles’ got caught in Derek’s eyes for a moment, and their laughter stalled. Esme’s exasperated voice again taking over, “My Daddy and Uncle Stiles behave like children I tell you Deaton. Always giggling.”

“That so?” he asked sounding amused.

“Oh yes, my daddy used to act like a grown up,” she sighed, “looks like I’m the most grown up person left in the house.”

Derek and Stiles both bit their lips to hold in another fit of laughter. Deaton finished filling the car and moved to the front to check the oil, “Sorry princess you’re going to have to speak up.”

“A-OK I’m used to it. I have a very good voice.”

Deaton leaned over from behind the hood and grinned at Derek, “Not shy is she?”

“Definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“I sure like this town. I like Beacon Hills too. But this town has a lot more sunshine and Daddy says we’re much closer to the ocean, which will be good for my mermaid practice.”

“Sure do, you’re only about two blocks from the ocean. It gets pretty crowded with the surfers even in winter.”

“Oooh!” she squealed, “surfers!”

Derek looked to Stiles by way of explanation, “Miss Morrell has been reading her a book about a girl who surfs.”

“Have you read Gidget, Deaton?”

Deaton laughed, “Can’t say that I have sugar.”

“It’s fantastic and wonderful.”

Stiles leaned his head back to face Esme, “You know, I surfed a little when I was a kid.”

Esme’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, “Just like Moondoggie!”

Stiles smirked, “Sure honey, just like Moondoggie.”

Deaton slammed the hood back down, still chuckling at the little girl in the back of Stiles’ car, “Dollar fifty pal.”

“I’ll follow you in, outta smokes,” he turned to Derek, “need anything?”

Derek shook his head bashfully, then fixed his eyes across the street on… actually there were nothing but trees on the other side of the road.

The inside of the store was tiny, enough room for a small desk, and a tiny fridge that was usually full of soda pop, but today only held three bottles of Coca Cola. “It’s been awhile man,” Deaton smiled as he moved behind the desk.

“Ahh, the life of a traveling salesman.”

“Nice souvenirs,” he nodded toward the direction of the door.

“More like a temporary loan. Be nice to keep though.”

“Gator looks like he wouldn’t mind being kept.”

“If only that were the truth,” Stiles faked a smile.

Deaton tilted his head, studying Stiles face for a moment, “Does this mean Mr. Back Alley actually wants to join the world of the domestics?”

Stiles sighed deeply, “You saw him. Fuck man, I’d give everything up for him if I thought it would make a difference. Even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t, he never could, couldn’t risk losing the kid.”

“We’ve all got something to lose, keep to yourselves, stick to the brother angle you’ll be five by five. Danny and I have been domestic for years, never heard a dickie bird from the fuzz. Folks are cool in Venice, what with all these beatniks and artists moving to town. Look at that man out there Stiles, he hasn’t kept his eyes off the door waiting for you to come out.”

Stiles smiled, unconvinced, but it was a nice change to talk to Deaton and not be scolded for his irresponsible promiscuity in Hollywood bars like he usually did when Stiles was in town. Deaton pulled out a pack each of Roi-Tans and Chesterfields. “Dollar sixty total?” Stiles asked, already knowing the answer, then handed over the money.

“One day you’re going to explain to me why you’re the only person I’ve ever met that smokes cigarillos and cigarettes.”

Stiles just winked, then called out as he exited, “I’ll be back in town soon, we’ll Patio ok?”

“You know my digits.”

Stiles walked out to the car, slipping the cigarillos into his jacket pocket, opening the Chesterfields, pulling one out from the pack and lighting it up. Derek frowned curiously as he climbed in the car, “Thought you were a cigarillo smoker?”

Stiles laughed, pointing at Derek, “Only when I’m an eighteen year old tough guy. Light up a Chesterfield at a juke joint and I may as well just wear a narc sign around my neck.”

On the drive home they sat silently listening to Esme talk about how on second thoughts she’d really much rather be Gidget when she grows up over Esther Williams because surfers were much neater than mermaids. She started singing a song that Stiles imagined she made up that went something like, “ _I’d rather be a surfer, cos surfers are the most. Mermaids are quite good too but so is toast…_ ”

She was on her second verse when Derek turned to Stiles and seemingly apropos of nothing, asked shakily, “Is that like with the girls?”

“Come again?”

“Miss Mart— Lydia, was draped all over you in class. I’ve seen you kissing her in the corridor, and in the parking lot, do you…”

Stiles laughed, “No. You can pick as many fights as you like, flash a lot of bread, but if you don’t get the top kitten in school on your arm you don’t get to be top stud. It’s manipulative and probably cruel, but my job only works if I raise through the ranks quickly, means kissing a few girls, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“Ever?” he asked, sounding small.

Stiles looked across the seat at him, very aware of the big ears in the back seat and said, “Derek, you and me, that’s who I am, it’s who I’ve always been. I don’t dig women in that way, I’ve never even wished that I did.”

Stiles watched Derek’s adams apple jut out sharply as he gulped, “I’ve wished that I did my entire life.”

“Did you ever try with one?”

Derek laughed an off-sort of laugh, “I had a girl all through high school, well before I was sent away to school. She was on the pep squad and I was on the football team. She got pregnant to my coach. When she broke the news that she was gonna become Mrs. Finstock she said it was because I kept my hands to myself too much,” he laughed again, this time more amused, “I don’t think she really knew how true that statement was.”

Stiles laughed, then couldn’t help thinking about Derek jerking off and got an awkward erection, “So you never—“

“Never. Hell, we didn’t even neck. Kate was always trying but I’d get real mad like. I never understood why it made me angry instead of horn— interested.”

“Until?”

“Well, probably shoulda cottoned on when I was fourteen and started hoarding Your Physique magazines, I didn’t know though. I didn’t know that other boys didn’t do that until my uncle caught me. He laughed at me and called me a queer. Though I didn’t know what that meant either for a few more years.”

“I remember being thirteen, and being chased almost daily from the newsstand for staring at the bodybuilding magazines.”

“It feels strange to talk about,” Derek said idly.

“Surely you must have spoken—“

Derek shook his head, “I try to keep to myself. Even when I was away at college, I kept my head down. Barely spoke to anyone outside of class and the baseball team.”

“That’s really… “ Sad, he thought.

“My family who were so proud of me for getting into Berkeley were suddenly gone, wasn’t in the mood to make friends or light it up on the varsity drag.”

Stiles nodded, tears welling and stomach knotting when it occurred to him that Derek had been alone for such a long time, until Esme, and it broke his heart a little. He pulled up to his house, hesitating a moment before he pulled the key from the ignition because that meant it was time to say goodbye to Derek. Derek gave him a shrug of a smile before climbing out.

“Hey Judy, you wanna carry one of these bags?” Stiles called to Esme who was still sitting in the back of the car singing at the top of her lungs.

She stopped singing and stood on the backseat, facing Stiles and Derek who were taking the grocery bags out of the trunk, “Daddy, Uncle Stiles forgot my name.”

Derek grinned, “I think Uncle Stiles meant Judy Garland.”

“Who is that? Is she one of your friends?”

They both laughed, Stiles opened Esme’s door and lifted her out. “Judy Garland is singer from when we were kids. Haven’t you seen the Wizard of Oz?”

“No,” she pouted, “it was on television but daddy said I had to practice my arithmetic and then the next day at school everyone was talking about flying monkeys.”

“Esme. It’ll be on next year,” Derek said tiredly, like he’d probably had this conversation too many times already.

Stiles handed her the lightest bag, “Now don’t drop this, it has eggs in it. Think you can handle it?”

She nodded with confidence, “I’m really really good at carrying eggs. We’d be poor as mice if we dropped all our eggs!”

“Well, it’s important skill to have,” Stiles agreed with a nod, and with two paper bags in arms led them through the front door of the house.

They were all unloading the bags into the pantry, outside there were some kids riding their bicycles up and down the street. Esme started to get antsy beyond belief before blurting out, “Pleeeeeeease can I go outside and play with those kids?”

Derek waved her off with one hand and she was out the door faster than the human eye could track. Stiles watched her approach the other kids out the window. He was going to comment on the ability of children to make friends so quickly when Derek had him up against his refrigerator, mouth on his before he had the chance to speak. Derek was kissing him harder than he ever had before, and when Stiles thought about how this would probably be their last kiss he matched Derek with the intensity of his kiss. He should have hit the road ten minutes ago but his need for Derek was too strong to make the right choice, it wasn’t until he remembered that Derek and his daughter were in hiding because of Peter being on the loose that he finally pulled away.

He ran his hand down Derek’s face, trying to capture the image of him breathless from kissing Stiles, so he could think back to it when Derek was back out of his life. Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand, biting the inside of his wrist, then kissing the spot he’d bitten, “You’re leaving now.” He said sadly, without a hint of questioning to his tone.

Stiles nodded his head then grabbed the keys hanging on the wall by the kitchen door, “These will get you into the house and my car.”

“Car?”

“Sure, didn’t think I was gonna leave you two stranded. It’s in the garage.”

“So the Cadillac?”

“Belongs to the US Government, pink slip says Dylan O’Brien. Goes back to FBN when the case wraps.”

“And, you? Where do you go?”

“I’ll be here, until HQ cooks up a new gig. Erica needs to move on first, set up in a new town.”

“She’s an agent?”

He laughed, “Yup, she’s uhhh…”

“She tried to fuck me when I came to talk about you.”

“Sounds about right,” he laughed, “it’s all just a game to her. It must be hard she has the same training as me yet she is forced to sit around an empty house all day painting her nails. She’s giving up a real life, family, relationships, for what?”

Derek closed his eyes for a moment, “I think you need to go, because if you keep talking I don’t think I’ll ever let you leave.”

They held each other close like they might just become one person if they held on tightly enough. Derek whispered something into Stiles’ neck that he didn’t hear, but later he’d pretend Derek had confessed his love. Stiles was the first to pull away, slipping his hand in his pocket for the slip of paper he’d not wanted to hand over in front of Esme.

“This is my father’s direct number. If you don’t hear from me by this time next week, don’t come back to Beacon Hills. Contact him, he will make sure you’re both kept safe.”

Derek took the paper, then frowned, “Why wouldn’t I hear from— oh—“

“I’ve stayed alive thing long, but… if this is the week my luck runs out, you need to know that someone else will get him. You’ll be able to return to Beacon Hills and Peter will be just a memory.”

Derek’s face tightened, “I don’t want you to be a memory.”

He shrugged his right shoulder, “Just the way the bongo—“

“Don’t,” he growled loudly, stabbing his finger on Stiles’ chest, “Don’t act like I’m supposed to be okay with that, and don’t fucking say that’s the way the bongo bingles to me ever again. Jesus Christ Stiles, you’re not allowed to just come into my life and make me… I won’t let you become a memory.”

 “You changed my life too you know.”

Derek looked torn between kissing Stiles and throwing a chair, “I swear to god if Peter hurts you I’ll kill him myself.”

It would have been so easy to tell Derek that he loved him in that moment, but he didn’t because Derek wasn’t thinking straight, and neither was Stiles; so he placed one last chaste kiss on Derek’s lips and slipped out the door. Esme was up the road with the kids when he drove past, she waved him over, “Uncle Stiles, do you know my friends?”

Stiles was close to tears and was grateful for Esme’s distraction from him breaking down in his car, “I’m afraid I don’t know any of the cool cats in this here town,” he said with a flashy smile.

The boys she was with circled his car with their bikes, “Gee whiz pops, that’s a real boss car,” said a redheaded boy who looked about eight or nine.

“Is he really your uncle?” Asked younger Mexican boy with a faint accent, with an overwhelmingly impressed tone.

“Of course,” Stiles winked.

Esme shot Stiles the biggest wide tooth grin, then with her hands on her hips said, “Yeah, and I get to ride in his car, all the time.”

“Wow,” the boys all said in amazement.

“Okay kitten, I’ve gotta head out, I’ll see you in a few days. Take care of your Dad okay?”

She nodded seriously, “I always do.”

Esme had gone back to playing, already forgetting Stiles’ existence as he drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 coming tomorrow when I wake up and after I do things like shower and maybe eat.


	11. Chapter 11

Erica was painting her nails in the lounge when Stiles got back that night, “You get your handsome teacher away safely?”

Stiles nodded, “I just saw Argent, says we’ve got Agent Lahey arriving tonight. FBI has Hale connected to unsolveds dating all the way back to the 40s, up and down the state through to Nevada.”

“If they get Hale then who’s next in line to be big boss?”

“This murder wrap makes me think he might not be the hot shot we thought he was. Sure, he’s deranged, but did you ever hear of a kingpin getting his hands that dirty?”

Erica shook her head, “Not once they’re big time.”

“We need to take down the whole operation before Lahey gets a shot at Hale so whoever is pulling Hale’s strings doesn’t have anyone left to promote.”

“Except for you?”

Stiles shrugged, “Worked in Long Beach.”

“Only because you got stabbed!”

Stiles laughed and pointed his finger at her, “Still worked though.”

She shook her head, “What’s the next step then?”

“Tonight I’m gonna go play JD at the drags, and you my dear will go put on your best dress and get tipsy at the Hop Spot. Peter likes to play the keys with the trios on Saturday night, you’re gonna act dumb and make friendly.”

Erica clapped, “Surely you can’t mean that I finally get to do what I am trained to do?”

“Crazy right?” Stiles winked.

***

Isaac Lahey was sitting at the bottom of his bed when he woke the next morning, “Morning sunshine,” he grinned.

“You could have waited downstairs,” Stiles said as he sat up, trying to rub the fogginess from his eyes

“But then I would’ve missed out on this,” he said waving in the general direction of Stiles’ bare chest.

“No dice, Lahey.”

Isaac tilted his head to one side, trying to read Stiles’ face, “Unbelievable. Back Alley Stilinski met someone.”

Stiles jumped out of bed, throwing his arms in the air, “Where is this name coming from? Did I somehow make it into Hedda Hoppers column?”

Isaac smirked, “I’ve never fucked a guy that hadn’t fucked you first, in a back alley, it fits. I’m more interested in hearing about the man who has you saying no, for the first time ever.”

 “Enough with the I can read your mind because I’m in the FBI now racket. You’re always going to be Isaac who cries when he comes to me.”

“Wise guy.”

“Cry baby.”

“Cock sucker.”

Stiles raised his hands in submission, and grinned, “Got me there.”

Isaac laughed, “I always wished we got along better.”

“We get along plenty, admittedly almost exclusively when we’re naked.”

“Guess we’ll have to figure out other ways now, I’m… yeah, I’m happy for you.”

“I don’t have anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah you do.”

Erica walked in as Stiles was finding a shirt and threw herself on the bed, grinning up at Isaac, “There you are,” she cooed.

Isaac laughed, “Wrong tree sister.”

“Ugh, You too? Did I miss the all government agents are secretly homosexual announcement?”

Stiles bit back a smile, “Let’s skip the announcements okay Erica?”

“Let’s stop patronizing Erica and remember she’s a motherfucking agent not a gossip columnist?”

Stiles nodded, “Did you find Peter last night?”

She smirked, “If I can’t have the handsome G-men at least I can count on the criminally insane to find me sexually alluring.”

“Did you learn anything?” Isaac asked, his face suddenly very serious.

“He has impressive stamina.”

Isaac wasn’t impressed, “You can’t possibly mean to tell me you went to bed with a suspected murderer.”

She shrugged, “Okay, I wont tell you, I’ll tell Stiles,” she turned to face him, “he got a call around two, I played asleep and he bought it. Had an entire conversation with someone named Deucalion.”

“Clearly an alias,” Isaac frowned.

“Or his parents were a fan of Greek mythology, Deucalion was the Greek Noah. Or they were boat builders. Or they were hoping he’d be a boat builder, and in that case they’re probably very disappointed.”

Isaac turned to Stiles and gave him that impatient annoyed look Stiles had come to know in the ten years they’d been friends. “Put a lid in it.”

“Isaac, cool it. Stiles, stop trying to annoy hi-pockets here. As I was saying, he was talking to this Deucalion about a ship sailing in tomorrow, or today I suppose. He also mentioned going to San Francisco later in the week to do a job for this guy. I’m sure we’ve got our big boss. A guy like Peter Hale doesn’t do anything for people below him.”

“Have you let headquarters know?”

She nodded patronizingly, “Again, just because I spend most of my time undercover reapplying nail polish doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do my job. They’re sending everything on this guy through to the Sheriff’s office today.”

“Perhaps we can take this downstairs out of my bedroom to—“

“Nup, I’m fine,” Erica grinned.

Isaac looked like he wanted to go downstairs, but the need to annoy Stiles was greater so he moved up to the top of Stiles bed leaning against the headboard with his hands behind his head, “I’m fine too.”

“If you’re going to act sixteen, then take pleasure in the fact that I jerked off right where you’re sitting, three times last night.”

Erica laughed, and Isaac just raised his eyebrows, mouth twisted into a cocky smile, “Am I supposed to find that off-putting?”

“Yes!”

“How many times have I had your di—“

“Okay I give up, we’ll do FBI and FBN work from my bedroom. Isaac, what have you got?”

“Once I leave here I’m meeting two of the San Francisco field agents at the Sheriff’s office. They’ve been here for a week on surveillance so I can’t tell you our next move until I get the report from them but our plan is to move in on Peter first chance we get. We can’t wait for your little drug sting.”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Erica said idly, while pinning a strand of hair back in place with a bobby pin.

“And if the heroin comes in today?”

“Then we’ll work together,” Isaac said as he stood and padded to the door, stopping at the doorway, “but FBI trumps FBN every time.”

***

Stiles got the call later in the day from Jackson, “Peter will see you at six tonight. Bring your bread.”

Protocol was to call headquarters, then the sheriff, then speak to Erica, but Stiles’ only real instinct was to call Derek. He started feeling anxious when on the seventh ring Derek hadn’t answered, he was out of his mind by the tenth, and then by the twelfth reminded himself that Derek may have just taken Esme to the beach. On the fourteenth Derek answered with a confused, “Hello?”

Stiles felt foolish about his strange panic from moments ago before he remembered to talk, “You sound like you’ve never used a telephone before.”

“You’re right, because this is 1875 and telephones haven’t been invented yet.”

Stiles laughed, “So much lip.”

“I’m glad to hear from you,” Derek said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said and Stiles could hear the smile coming over in his voice.

“I needed to, wanted to tell you that it’s all happening tonight. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”

The was an extended silence before Derek said dispiritedly, “Good luck Stiles.”

***

Erica had gone to Peter’s at four, the plan being she kept him happy enough that he hadn’t kicked her out by six. Stiles had the bread, the wire, the handcuffs, and all of the Sheriff’s men around the perimeter. When he knocked on Peter’s office door at six, Erica was exactly where she was supposed to be, stretched out on the couch of Peter’s office looking very recently fucked.

“Beat it,” Peter said to Erica.

“Aunty?” Stiles asked shocked as Erica turned to him.

He scowled at Peter, “How could you? Don’t you know she’s bughouse crazy?”

Peter tilted his head, giving her the once over, “No wonder I like her.”

“Dylan’s just jealous because the moon never talks to him,” she said with an unhinged sort of smirk.

Peter grinned, “Okay she can stay,” he said walking toward Stiles, clapping him on the shoulder, “got the gold?”

Stiles pulled out a bag of stacked twenties and held it out, Peter tried to take the bag but Stiles pulled it back, “Cough up the goods dad, if you want the bread.”

Peter nodded, grin still on his face, “Smart boy.”

He opened a hidden compartment in his desk and pulled out the bag of off-colored white powder. Stiles picked it up and sniffed inside, “Smells bulling pops,” he moaned enthusiastically.

“It’s the best,” Peter grinned as Stiles passed the cash. Peter was counting the bills, and before he knew what was happening, Stiles had his arms pinned behind his back and Erica was standing in front of him with a gun pointed at his chest, “you’re so both so stupid that you would fucking trying to swindle me?” he laughed manically as he tried to struggle from Stiles firm grip on his arms.

Stiles was snapping the handcuffs on him just as his right arm wriggled free of Stiles’ grip. The surprise of Erica cocking the trigger was enough for Stiles to get the the other handcuff snapped on to the right wrist, Erica laughed, “We’re not trying to swindle you, we’re arresting you, stupid.”

They’d made it to the end of the hallway with Peter before shots rang out through the hall they ran dragging Peter along with them to the back exit. Peter started laughing, “You’ll never make it out of here alive you know.”

“Let him go,” a guy bellowed from behind them. Stiles pulled Peter in through the door to the Hop Spot, as Erica held back firing shots at the faceless gun men.

Scott was sitting at a table nearby, so Stiles shouted out to him, “Get everyone out of here.”

Scott didn’t flinch, just stood up and rallied all those on the dance floor who couldn’t hear the gunshots over the music playing. Three gun men burst through the side door from the corridor, shooting wildly at Stiles. Stiles threw up a table as a makeshift barricade, just as Isaac and his team crashed through the front door of the club.

“You know you’ve only got me handcuffed, I can get away.”

“For someone with so many options, I’m surprised to see you still here then.”

“Why don’t you have a gun?”

Stiles was getting sick of hearing this guy talk, and pulled his gun from the holster on his ankle, holding it to the underside of his jaw, “Who said I didn’t?” The sound of gunfire was almost deafening, and he had no idea who was coming out on top, but if Stiles joined in he’d lose Peter, so until it was over he was stuck behind the table, saving his bullets and listening to Peter try to taunt him.

Peter laughed, “Maybe you’ve got some brains after all. Not that you’re going to shoot me.”

Stiles put his gun in his jacket pocket, “Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed as he took out his knife from the inside pocket of his jacket, “but I will cut you if you don’t shut the fuck up and sit still till this is over.”

“You’re not the type.”

“I think I am.” Stiles ran the blade along the side of Peter’s neck, almost hard enough to cut, “You want to see what else I’ve got hiding in my jacket?”

Peter laughed harder this time, “I’m sorry, should I be afraid of you?”

Stiles flicked the knife against Peter’s left cheekbone, “Ordinarily I’d say no, but I have a special sort of hate for you, so I’ll make the exception. Unless you want to tell your men to step down that is.”

Peter shook his head, “I can handle your pathetic queer torture, my men will take down yours then you’ll get to watch as I slice you, and bleed you out. But what I’m wondering is, what makes me so special? Why do I get your special hate?”

Stiles ran the knife over the superficial wound on his cheek, cutting a little deeper, “You keep talking and I’ll keep cutting.”

“I haven’t done anything to you personally. So it must be something I’ve done to someone you love, I fucked your Aunt, but clearly she isn’t actually your aunt so that can’t be it. Did I kill your father? Your sister? No, I’d be dead already wouldn’t I? The only person left we both know is Derek.”

“I said stop talking,” Stiles warned, cutting deep enough this time that the blood starting spilling down Peter’s face on to his neck and shirt.

“Got a yen for Derek? Well isn’t that the sweetest thing. Do you think he’ll cry when they find your body torn apart in the woods?”

“I don’t think he’ll cry when you burn in the chair,” Stiles said pulling the knife from Peter’s cheek when it occurred to him that Peter was getting off on Stiles’ anger. He was enjoying being cut. The gunfire was dying down, but Stiles couldn’t make out any voices. He wasn’t confident anymore that Peter wasn’t right about which of them were going to walk out of this alive.

Someone called out, “Mr. H, there’s a car in the back exit.”

Peter tried to make a run for it, but Stiles grabbed him by the knees throwing him back down on to the wooden floor. Peter fought back this time, head-butting Stiles before standing again. Stiles’ head was getting a little foggy, he felt like he could smell smoke but he couldn’t see a fire from where he crouched and the gun fire was still unrelenting. When Peter tried biting Stiles to escape his grip, Stiles held him down, pushing his head to the floor, “Are you going to stop?”

“No,” Peter laughed.

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, pulling out his knife and slicing deeply right through each of Peter’s Achilles tendons, eliciting for the first time a blood-curdling scream from Peter.

Stiles pulled out his gun and moved around the table. There were men still shooting but he couldn’t tell who were his or Peters. There was definite smoke, black and billowing from the hall that connected Peter’s office with the club. As the smoke grew heavier the men dropped to the ground or ran out the door. Stiles ran back to the table, picking the bleeding Peter under his arms, as he tried to drag him out the front door of the club.

He was probably only six feet from the exit when realized he couldn’t remember where he was supposed to be going. His head hurt, he was pretty sure he should go to the door but this person he was apparently carrying was heavy. He dropped Peter to the ground then stumbled for a moment, trying to find the exit. It was dark now and the fire had begun to move through the room he was in, eating up tables and climbing the wallpaper.

He didn’t know where he was. He could only remember Derek, smiling at him, like he was somebody and Esme’s gap toothed smile. He didn’t know how he’d come to be in this burning building, for some reason the only thought he had in his head was of what the little girl had said when they’d driven past two men in suits standing next to a black car the day earlier, ‘They must be going to a wedding,’ Derek had said and she’d responded authoritatively with, ‘Probably not, I don’t see any brides so they’re probably putting a dead body in a box to drive somewhere to bury it.’

“Derek,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and almost gone. He didn’t know if they were in the room he needed to find them, ”Es—“

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

His dad was sitting in the chair next to the bed when he woke, his head pounding so hard he could barely open his eyes; but he could see enough that to say it was now day and he was in a hospital.

“I’m alive?”

His dad looked up from the files he was reading through, placing them on the chair as he stood and walked over to Stiles, “You’ve been in a drug-induced coma for three days while they tried to clean out your lungs from the smoke damage, the doctors weren’t sure that you’d…” his voice choked up, Stiles hadn’t heard him cry since-- it had been awhile but the sound of his dad fighting back tears made him want to cry. “I can’t lose you Stiles. You’re all I have left.”

“What happened? Did we get Hale?” He nodded, but it was too solemn a reaction for Stiles to rejoice in the news, there was something he was holding back from him. “Did we… did we lose anyone?”

His dad nodded again, then squeezed his eyes shut before saying, “One of the Beacon County deputies and… Reyes and Lahey are gone.”

“No,” he shook his head, “Erica and Isaac. They can’t be, did you check? They wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t think they had a choice in the matter.”

He kept shaking his head, and tried to get out of bed but his dad held him down, “You don’t understand, they’re too strong. There must be a mistake. You need to check the bodies. Who knows who those people are but it’s not them.”

“I’m sorry son. Their bodies were found in the hall of the club, the only part of the building that didn’t collapse. They’ve been formally identified.”

“But they were just in my room yesterday, making fun of me and… Erica was there with me we got Peter. We need to talk to Derek, there could be someone else coming for him. Peter could be pulling strings from prison.”

“Peter Hale is dead, when the fire took the Hop Spot down, it took him with it. Everyone ran, except for Hale. Agent Daehler got you out, and reported Hale trying to escape but he seemed unable to walk, the building collapsed before anyone could get back in for Hale. But it doesn’t matter we got five of Hale’s men and they folded quickly, so until someone new moves to town, Beacon Hills is dead.”

“What about Deucalion?”

 “Agent Daehler is on the way to San Francisco now to head up the Deucalion investigation. As far as you’re concerned son, it’s over.”

***

Stiles knew his dad had better places to be than the Beacon Hills Hospital but he barely left his side for another week until the head Doctor grudgingly let Stiles sign his own discharge papers, but insisted Stiles’ dad drive him the seven hours back to his house in Venice.

They were driving through Ventura when his dad turned to him and said, “You can still make a difference from behind a desk you know.”

 “I’d make it two days behind a desk. You know how bored I get with paperwork. Remember when I got stabbed in San Diego and got put on the desk for a month, almost burst my stiches from my failure to sit still.”

“I’ll never forget the day your principal called your mother and I in to tell us you were on drugs, rattling off the reasons why: can’t sit still in class, fidgets constantly or staring out the window in a drugged daze. Your mother gave him a look of pity, said you’d been that way since the first day of school, looked down her nose at him and asked if he was suggesting that you’d been doping up in kindergarten?’”

“She was a real class act,” Stiles sighed.

“She was everything,” his dad said sadly, “I may have lost her but at least I had her for a time. I don’t want you to miss out on that. I think you’ll see in time that coming out of undercover will be a good thing. Let you lead a real life for once.”

“As long as I don’t die tomorrow from an asthma attack.”

“Stiles,” his dad warned.

“I understand what you’re saying sir, but sometimes we don’t get to have what we want.”

Esme was in the front garden picking flowers and talking to herself when the car pulled up in the driveway.

She looked up at the car and screamed, “Uncle Stiles!”

His dad furrowed his brow in confusion, “Do I start with the fact there is a child in your garden or that she just called you uncle?”

Stiles brushed his hand over his hair and winced, “I may have brought back Derek and his daughter to my house against protocol, I couldn’t trust the safe houses but I’m out now anyway so really, I mean, you can’t fire me.”

Esme had bounded up to the car and presented Stiles a small bouquet, “This was going to be for Daddy because he’s been so sad for the past week, but now they are welcome home flowers!”

They climbed out of the car Stiles bent down, kissed Esme on the cheek and said of the mix of wildflowers and weeds, “Is there anything you’re not wonderful at doing?”

Esme considered this for a moment before giggling, Stiles was distracted by the tall figure standing in his doorway, just staring. Stiles forgot himself and the world when he bounded down the path, taking Derek by the hand and dragging him to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and kissing him against the wall. He didn’t care that his dad had seen Stiles drag him inside, or how it probably looked. He didn’t care because he had Derek, even if just for a fleeting moment before Derek left for Beacon Hills, that moment it was theirs and no one could take that away.

Their kiss slowed down, and Derek’s chest heaved a little before he stopped kissing back, his kisses had turned into quiet sobs, “I thought you were dead,” he said wrapping his arms around Stiles, “I read about the fire at the Hop Spot, about the five unnamed casualties. I’ve been staring at that damn number for almost two weeks. I didn’t want to call it, didn’t want to hear someone say those words down the other end of the line, making it real.”

Stiles’ heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest, but before he got fooled into being happy he remembered how his colleagues and friends wouldn’t be going home to anyone. Erica wouldn’t get to hold anyone again. Isaac wouldn’t be flashing his cheeky smile. It took moments before he was sobbing in Derek’s arms, “Erica is gone, and Isaac. He, he was my best friend and now he’s lying in the ground somewhere,” Derek pulled back from Stiles shoulder, his sobs subsiding as he wiped the tears from Stiles’ eyes before leading him to sit at the bottom of the bed, encouraging him to rest his head on Derek’s lap, while he stroked up and down his back.

Stiles calmed down quickly, the patterns Derek was making on his back made him sleepy and reminded him of what his mom used to do when he was small. As he drifted to sleep he thought about how lucky Esme was to have a father like Derek and imagined what it would be like if they lived in another world where they could all be together. Derek would take care of him he wouldn’t always have to be taking care of everyone else for once. Derek would hold him tight at night and whisper in his ear, ‘you’re safe,’ and he’d know it was true because Derek said it. Derek leaned down and placed a small kiss on Stiles’ temple before guiding him up the bed until his head was on the pillow. “You sleep.”

“Just stay, just for a minute…” Stiles murmured sleepily. Derek climbed on to the bed and wrapped his arms around Stiles holding him close from behind. Stiles pretended for a moment that this was his life that he got to go to sleep everyday this way, and with that thought fell asleep quickly in Derek’s arms.

He woke alone few hours later, it was still light out and he could hear voices in the kitchen. He padded out through the lounge but stopped outside the kitchen door when he realized Derek and his dad were talking about him.

“He really shouldn’t have left the hospital, but the moment they said he was clear he was signing his own release. He can be a pigheaded fool sometimes, I don’t think he really has a concept of how close to death he was, and he needs supervision. It’s not safe for him to be here all alone,” his dad said sounding wrecked. Stiles wondered when the last time he slept was.

“I’ll stay with him,” Derek said with forceful determination.

“I understand there is a… bond… between you and my son. But, this is a lot to take on for you. You’ve got a child to take care of and you barely know Stiles. I think it would be best for everyone if I take him home with me, I’ve got a housekeeper who will—“

“No,” Derek gritted out, “with all due respect sir, I don’t see how being taken care of by a housekeeper could be better for him than by someone who… Stiles belongs here, with me and I’m not going to let you take him without a fight.”

Esme ran in from outside at that moment bailing into Stiles, “Uncle Stiles! You had a nap before I got to give you a huggie.” He wrapped her arms around her and she whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you came back to us, Daddy’s heart almost broke into a million pieces when you were gone.”

“I’m glad too baby girl.”

She grinned then pulled him into the kitchen, “I have an announcement,” she called out to the men, “Stiles the magnificent is awake!”

Derek and his dad both stood from the kitchen table at the same time to see if Stiles was okay, but then after a moment’s battle of eyes, Derek was the only one still standing. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him tight then whispering, “How are you feeling?” before pulling back, leaving only a hand on Stiles’ arm.

“My head hurts a little, and breathing isn’t the easiest, but I think I have medicine.”

Stiles’ dad stood up all the way this time and poured Stiles a glass of water, handing it to him along with two large white pills from the bottle that was sitting on the countertop. Derek guided him to the table, and he sat, drinking the water down with the pills. Derek didn’t sit though his hand had moved to Stiles’ neck and lingered there for a moment before he left the room.

Stiles’ dad watched as Derek left then clasped his hands together in front of him on the table, “I’m going to head home tonight, but Derek is going to stay with you for awhile.”

“He is?” Stiles’ probably smiled a bit too hard at that revelation and his dad did not miss it.

His dad nodded his head, “I can’t begin to understand it Stiles. Two very handsome men, you could have your pick of women yet you choose each other instead.”

“I’m…“ Sorry? Not Sorry? Stiles couldn’t think of the word he wanted. Was he sorry? There was no point in denying how he felt about Derek at this point but it was still his instinct to deny everything, evade leading questions, “What makes you think that we’re even—“

His dad gave him the look that often preceded the phrase, ‘don’t feed me that claptrap Stiles’, “Should we start with the rage you flew into, then subsequent asthma attack when the hospital wouldn’t let you phone Derek? Or you checking yourself out of the hospital early against doctors wishes so you could see Derek? Every word you spoke to me on the drive was about Derek, except somehow you managed to completely avoid mentioning he was staying in your home.”

“I was worried about him.”

“Son, you literally ran the moment you saw him and dragged him into your bedroom. I’d been here a half hour before he came out again. Please don’t patronize me.”

Stiles panicked, and looked behind him but Derek wasn’t there. He was alone, and he didn’t know what to say. He’d lied to his father his entire life, but now he knew and Stiles felt sick. He stood and stumbled over to the kitchen sink, throwing up into it, tears filling his eyes and the acid burning his throat. His head was dizzy, his stomach knotted, wondering with every heave if his father would turn him in or if he would just disown him.

His dad raced over to him, holding the back of his neck, as if he was afraid that Stiles would pass out and knock his head again on the countertop. When the acid in his stomach gave way to dry heaves he collapsed on the floor against the cabinet underneath the sink. His dad lifted him up, and guided him back to his chair, sitting in the one directly next to it and holding him steady. “Did your mother ever tell you how we met?”

Stiles tried to shake his head, but it was too dizzy, so he forced out a whispered, “no.”

“We grew up just down the road from each other in Prospect Park, in those days that’s where all the Polish families lived and we didn’t tend to stray outside of the area socially. I hated it. I swore up and down I was never going to marry a Polish girl, to the chagrin of my family and I stuck with it too. I joined the force the day I turned eighteen, met a nice Italian girl, Lucia and told her when I’d saved up enough I would ask her to marry me. I’d come home at night to hear your Dziadek and Babcia arguing over how serious I was getting with this Italian girl, like I was committing a mortal sin.

I’d saved up almost enough to get my own place, and had decided it was time to buy a ring. There was a place two blocks down that sold jewelry, it was mostly hocked stuff, but it was all I could afford. I didn’t know what I was doing, how to choose a ring for a woman. The girl behind the counter starting laughing at me, I must have looked like a chump because she said, ‘I’ve never seen a fella look so close to combustion just from looking at rings.’ I looked up, and that was it, a year of courting Lucia and she was forgotten. It didn’t take hours, weeks, months. I looked into your mother’s eyes and I knew she was meant for me.

She didn’t want a bar of me though. Thought I was a regular creep, coming in to buy an engagement ring for another girl then asking her to take a walk with me. I didn’t give up, every day I came to the shop with a flower I had picked from Barnsdall Park. It went on for months I think. Until one day I didn’t come. I was just a beat cop at the time, but all officers were called in for a raid on Joseph Ardizzone. I took a bullet in the stomach, spent two weeks in hospital. The first thing I did when I got out, wasn’t to go home to my parents, but to take a flower to your mother. We were at city hall an hour later. She told me later that she knew I really loved her because she was my first thought when I left the hospital and she knew she loved me when she realized she may never see me again.”

“I’m not going to meet a girl I love,” Stiles whispered, voice even more hoarse from vomiting.

His dad shook his head, “No, because you’re already in love.”

Hearing the words said aloud made Stiles’ heart clench because he was in love, he was so in love that he couldn’t think straight or breathe, but it was still unspoken and the more he thought about Derek’s life, the more he realized his love would probably always be unspoken. “You’re… it’s not. It’s not like you and Mom. I’m never going to city hall with anyone. He doesn’t…” Stiles shook his head, trying to get the right words out, “I don’t fit in his life.”

“Nobody ever fits, son, nothing in life is that easy but it doesn’t mean you give up,” he rubbed his forehead roughly, “I’ve seen good men lose everything over being the way you are, I would never chose this life for you, but I’d have more luck shouting down a well than telling you what to do. Just promise me you’ll both be careful, the number of times you… well, you weren’t very discreet in the past.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped, completely lost for a reaction, before he settled on, “You knew?”

“The bureau puts a routine tail on all its agents off duty, I get the reports. They’re looking for reds and drug pushers so you fly under the radar. I hoped it was just something you did because you couldn’t get a girl living undercover, you wouldn’t be the first agent to turn to men out of convenience.”

“It’s not convenience.”

“I know that now, son,” he said, clapping Stiles’ back awkwardly before standing. “I think I’d better hit the road. I have no doubt the FBN has fallen apart without me.”

“So you’re not going to turn me in?”

“I don’t ever want to lose another son. Just keep your nose clean so I don’t have to,” he said pulling his keys from his pocket, he looked back at Stiles before he left the kitchen, “You’re a good man Stiles. Your mother would be proud of all that you’ve done. Your brothers too, they worshiped you, I’m certain if they’d had the chance to become young men it would be you they’d be following into the FBN, not me.”

Stiles choked up again, crying over the men his brothers would never be, and his mother whom he missed every day. It was masochistic but he filled his mind with thoughts of everyone he’d lost in his life, twisting a figurative knife in his heart as he thought of Erica laughing, or that moment of slight panic in her eyes when she stayed behind in the corridor to shoot, pushing Stiles toward the door to the club with Peter. He thought about how arrogant Isaac acted and how Stiles was one of the few people who knew it was a practiced act from years of hiding himself. Stiles knew that Isaac had a cat that he loved and when she died he spent the next two days crying in a drunken stupor just like he knew that Isaac had killed men on the job, but threw up every time. He wondered how many people had been to their funerals while he was still in hospital.

He was running out of tears but he needed to hurt more so he thought about Derek, about his face when he discovered his parents and grandparents had all been taken down by the fire. Pictured him alone every day at college, never talking to a soul, keeping his head down as he walked the halls, crying over his parents at night. Thought about him being a twenty two year old kid and suddenly having a newborn baby to take care of, and how there was no one to take care of him during that time, nobody to help him or to guide him. The thought of Derek lost and alone broke his heart, but it also stopped his tears.

He splashed his face with cold water until it stopped looking so red and puffy, and brushed the acrid taste of vomit out of his mouth, before finding Derek outside under the big tree in his back garden reading one of his old books. Esme was pulling petals off of flowers and collecting pebbles, “I’m making a fairy house in case you were wondering,” she called over her shoulder to Stiles, “it’s for when fairies get tired and need somewhere to sleep. I guess fairy hotel is a better name.”

“I love it,” he smiled before joining Derek under the tree. Derek didn’t look up from the book straight away but seemingly without thought or hesitation slung his arm around Stiles shoulder, keeping it there as he finished his page. Stiles should have felt relaxed but the casual movement had Stiles’ heart racing and stomach dropping.

Derek closed the book, placing it on the other side of him before tightening his arm around Stiles and kissing the corner of his mouth, before grinning, “Hey there.”

“You just kissed me.”

Derek laughed, “It wasn’t the first time,” then he stopped laughing suddenly, “oh no. Do you remember who I am?”

Stiles poked him in the ribs, “This isn’t Random Harvest, I’m not Ronald Coleman I have asthma not amnesia.”

“Then why—“

Stiles pointed across the garden at Esme, carefully arranging some leaves as rain protection for the fairy house, “You just kissed me in front of your daughter, I don’t know what that means.”

Derek seemed to be considering it, “I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh.”

“Do you mind if I kiss you in front of Esme?”

“Of course n—“ was all he got out as Derek took the hand not wrapped around Stiles’ shoulder and brought it to his face, kissing his lips softly before Stiles groaned in frustration, “what are you trying to do to me Derek?”

“Kiss you,” he said as he kissed gently along Stiles’ neck with complete disregard.

“Stop,” Stiles whispered, only half meaning it. Derek pulled back, staring at him with those eyes that he saw every time he closed his eyes in hospital, “Jesus. I’m never going to be able to let you go. Do you understand? You’re tearing me apart and I’m just going to keep letting you until you go home.”

Esme must have heard him say go home because she ran over to the tree pouting, “I don’t want to go home. Not ever. There aren’t any fairies or surfers or anything in Beacon Hills. And Mr. Deaton at the gas station gives me lollipops and none of the kids here have called me half-breed or a buffie even once.”

Derek’s face dropped and his voice suddenly dropped an octave lower, “Who’s been calling you names?”

She shrugged, “Kids at Roosevelt Elementary. Sometimes they call me brownie. Miss Morrell says you just gotta shrug it off because they are jealous, but I had a lot of tears the other week when Susie asked me why I was so brown. I tried to shake it off, but her voice was so mean Daddy. I wanted to tell you, honest, but Miss Morrell says you can’t understand this sort of thing because you’re not like us.”

Derek’s lips tightened until there was no color left, “You’re not going back there.”

“Does that mean we can stay here?” She asked.

Stiles felt Derek’s body tense, “I don’t know baby, but Miss Morrell is wrong, you should always tell me everything.”

She nodded solemnly, and Stiles watched her faces as it melted into tears, “I’m so sorry Daddy. I didn’t tell you but I took four extra cookies and hid them in my room last night even though I knew you didn’t want me to have any more,” she was sobbing, looking at the ground shamefully, “I gobbled them all up too, even after I’d brushed my teeth and my teeth probably are all eaten up by cookie germs now.”

Derek sighed deeply, then in an obvious attempt to keep his voice serious said, “Did you learn your lesson?” Her eyes big and mouth pulled tight, she nodded her head furiously in agreement. “Alright, go finish the fairy houses.”

Derek and Stiles sat in silence watching Esme again, both avoiding the heavy questions and unarticulated feelings floating around in the air between them. The sun had started its slow descent, and the air took on a slight chill when Derek said, “When I was a child my mother told me that we all had someone in the world who was meant for them, she said if you were very lucky you find that person, but most people never do. Laura would tease me because I said I was going to be one of those people, she said it was just stories, that real life was death and sadness. She gave me an Emily Bronte anthology for my tenth birthday to prove her point. I still believed though.

And then I grew up and watched the world fall apart around me. I realized that life was lonely, that love like that only existed in books or on film. But then there you were. I hadn’t thought of it in years and I knew I was one of those people, although it didn’t feel lucky.

My mother hadn’t been right about everything though. Because when I thought you were gone Stiles, I realized that you weren’t just meant for me, but you’d always been a part of me and suddenly a part of me was gone. I think I’ve always known you, somehow, and it scared me.”

“Are you still scared?”

Derek nodded his head, “Yes, but not of you, I’m in love with you.”

Stiles’ hands started shaking and his heart raced again. It was Stiles who leaned in this time for the kiss, slowly licking his way into Derek’s mouth, kissing until his pulse slowed, stopping before he was too turned on to function in front of Esme.

The way that Derek looked at him when he pulled away made it hard for him to breathe, no one had ever looked at him like that and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to someone so beautiful, looking at him in that way. “I don’t want you to leave,” Stiles whispered, unsure why he was so nervous, and it didn’t help that Derek wasn’t responding, “I want you to stay and be with me. I know it’s not as easy as all that but I want you to think about it, and know that it’s what I want.”

There was giggling from the grass in front of them and somehow Esme had laid out on her stomach, face in hands without either of them noticing, “Uncle Stiles, if we live with you, will you sleep with Daddy or on the couch? If you are in love with him you can sleep with him in his bed you know.”

“I can? Are boys allowed to be in love with each other?” Stiles asked her.

She looked at him like he was crazy, “Why wouldn’t they be allowed? But if you’re not in love you have to sleep on the couch or on the floor because it’s just spectful.”

Derek laughed, “I uhh, don’t know where she picks this up.”

“So do I get anything else if I tell Daddy I’m in love with him? Or is it just getting to sleep in the big bed instead of the floor.”

She thought about it seriously for a moment, “Well there’s kissing, hugs and when you go to heaven you have to go together. Just like my other Mommy and Daddy and my Grandparents. So if you want to go to heaven alone you should not say that you love someone,” she sighed, “that would be really bad luck. You should always be very careful about who you say I love you too. Imagine if I said it to a boy on a lark and then had to go to heaven at the same time as him. Oh boy.”

“All very good points,” Stiles said with deep consideration. Derek tickled his ribs, but Stiles batted him away, “Stop it I have some serious thinking to do.”

Derek tipped back his head laughing at Stiles, but Esme shook her head at Derek and warned, “Daddy.”

Stiles tapped his lip pensively, “I think I need more information, never having done this before. If I get Daddy forever, do I get to keep you forever too?”

She nodded furiously, “Yes. Forever and ever, and when you go to heaven with Daddy I’ll remember you both forever and cry when they put you in a box.”

Stiles whispered to Derek, “I think she has plans to bump us off.” Derek snickered, and squeezed Stiles’ shoulder where hand was still resting.

“You should tell Uncle Stiles about how good Daddy is at making pancakes,” Derek said to Esme.

“Oh yes Uncle Stiles, if you love Daddy he will make you the bestest most scrumptious pancakes you’ve ever tasted in the entire world. I feel sorry for all the other kids who don’t get them to tell you the truth.”

“Hmmm, how is he at lifting heavy things? I feel like that may come in handy.”

“Very very good. If you ask Daddy he’ll let you squeeze his arm muscles and then you can see for yourself.”

Stiles raised both eyebrows and nodded in agreement, “That is a wonderful idea Esme,” then turning to Derek who was biting back a smile, “mind if I, uhhh, squeeze?”

Derek mouthed ‘evil’ to him before taking his arm from Stiles’ shoulders and rolling his t-shirt sleeve up, flexing his arm. Stiles ran his hand down Derek’s arm suddenly regretting it because Derek kept flexing the hard muscles, and it was doing things to him. He pulled his hand away, not missing Derek’s wicked smirk.

Stiles coughed, “Decent, decent. I think I’ll sleep on it.”

Esme nodded like it was a wise thing to do to take his time with an important decision, then stood up, “Can I watch television now?”

“There are potatoes in the sink that need peeling, you do those and you can watch television afterwards,” Derek said.

She grinned, “I’ll peel them as fast as a camel on a boat!”

“I hope she never learns how to use similes,” Stiles laughed as she ran inside the house.

Derek laughed, then with seemingly no effort lifted Stiles on to his lap like he was a ragdoll. Stiles leaned in to kiss Derek but Derek only kissed him back once before pulling away with a laugh, “That was just a sample,” he shook his head with a sigh, “I’m afraid according to the convention Esme has laid out I cannot kiss you or make you pancakes or carry heavy things unless you decide you love me.”

“But I can fuck you into the floor without breaking the rules.” Stiles whispered into his ear, Derek twitched his hips up once involuntarily, but when Stiles pressed back down with his ass and felt Derek’s erection through his pants Stiles wrapped his hands around Derek and forced his mouth on to his. Their uncomfortable rutting was matched with another wide mouthed sloppy kiss that felt the closest thing to fucking with your mouth that Stiles had experienced.

Stiles’ damaged lungs and the breathless kissing were a bad combination, forcing him to pull away from dizziness. He rested his head one Derek’s shoulder beneath him, trying to focus, “You don’t have to come to heaven with me if you don’t want but you do have to cook me pancakes and carry large items so I get to watch your muscles flex.”

Derek smiled shyly, whispering into Stiles’ ear, “What about fucking me into the floor?”

“Uncle Stiles, there’s someone at the door for you!” Esme called out loudly in a sing song voice from inside the house.

“Get Esme,” he hissed at Derek before running inside, grabbing his hidden gun from the medicine cabinet and then making his way slowly down the hallway towards the front door.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles approached the front door carefully, he’d been living in Venice since he’d graduated college and could count on one hand the number of unannounced visitors he’d had in that time. Derek was leading Esme out to the back garden despite her confused protests. There was a window above the door but the man standing was looking away towards the road. Stiles tucked his gun in the back of his jeans before opening the door slowly.

The man turned, a smile blasting across his face, “Hey buddy.”

“Agent Daehler?” Stiles said stretching the two words out much longer than they needed to be.

He grinned slapping Stiles on the shoulder as he walked into the house, “You got it pal.”

Erica had been one of the closest people in his life and even she’d never been to his home, there was an unspoken no-house-calls rule in the bureau, Daehler’s disregard for this had made him uneasy. Stiles’ eyes narrowed at the man he’d met maybe once in his life, “Thought you were in San Francisco.”

Daehler was strolling through the hall, eyeing up every picture framed and every piece of stupid memorabilia Stiles owned before he finally turned and said, “On my way up there now, thought I’d stop and do a little recon since you’re the only living agent that has familiarity with the case.”

“I don’t think there’s much I can tell you that the bureau stenographer can’t.”

He laughed smugly, “Oh I don’t know, I’m more of a hands on type, it’s more seamless, don’t you think Stiles?”

Shivers ran down Stiles’ spine as he was reminded of what Peter had said to him about being hands on with killing. It wasn’t reasonable, but his uneasiness about Daehler had morphed into mistrust.

Agent Daehler grinned at him before taking himself into the kitchen and sitting at the table waiting for Stiles to follow. Stiles frowned, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Agent Daehler waved Stiles off with a nod then slumped back in his chair comfortably. Stiles grabbed his keys off of the hall table and hurried outside where Derek and Esme were working on her fairy house again. Stiles handed his keys to Derek, “I’m probably overreacting, in fact I’m sure I am, but I want you to drive over to Deaton’s gas station, his house is directly across the road. Leave through the side path. I’ll meet you there.”

Derek just nodded then ushered Esme away whispering, “Let’s play cat burglars, how quiet can you be?”

Esme put her finger over her mouth and tiptoed dramatically, feet well before body like she was in a cartoon, toward the side exit. Stiles rushed back inside, closing the back door as silently as possible.

Agent Daehler was in the same position as earlier, “Did I hear a kid when I knocked on the door?”

Stiles laughed, “Yeah I have three kids, all strapping young men like their father.” Agent Daehler shrugged dropping the line of question, but he didn’t laugh either.

“So pad my skull here Stilinski, the details are a little fuzzy when it comes to your investigation of Deucalion and his association with Hale.”

“We never got as far as an investigation. Erica heard Hale on the phone with the character, but if you’d read the transcript you’d know that.”

“Perhaps there is something else about either Hale or Deucalion you may have forgotten to mention?”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you Daehler, I don’t just forget to record important case details,” he said then after studying Daehler’s face a moment, “No one ever told me how you ended up in Beacon Hills, there was no third slated for that case, and you’re not a hired gun, what gives?”

“Reyes requested me for back up. I was in San Francisco, it was a short drive.”

Stiles frowned and shook his head, “Erica never mentioned you.”

Daehler laughed, “Typical. We were undercover together in fifty five, I wanted her to quit the FBN and marry me. The girl wasn’t right in the head, said she loved me but refused to quit her job to marry me. What kind of woman doesn’t want that?”

Stiles shrugged then grudgingly admitted to himself that perhaps Daehler was on the level. Erica had told him about a guy who’d wanted to marry her, said at least when she plays house undercover there was the possibility of some action down the line. “So you’re the guy.”

Daehler smiled, “And you’re the guy she partnered with instead. Tell me, she fuck your brains out?”

Stiles’ face turned into an angry scowl as he stood, “You need to leave now. There’s nothing else I can tell you about Hale that isn’t in the file.”

Daehler didn’t move from his seat, just laughed cockily, “Hey buster, I won’t tell. Erica was a whor—“

Stiles grabbed Daehler’s shirt collar, pulling him up to standing, “You got thirty two teeth Daehler unless you wanna try for none I suggest you get the fuck out of my house. Now.”

Daehler was still laughing, but he put his hands up defensively, “Okay okay, I read you.”

Stiles was on the phone with his dad the moment he’d slammed the door on Daehler.

“Just had a visit from Daehler.”

“Really? That’s…”

“Strange, real strange.”

“Daehler is an odd duck, but he gets results, uses his unstructured thinking to his advantage when dealing with criminals. That’s why I always put him undercover in college campuses, he plays unhinged beatnik to a T.”

“He said Erica called him in for back up.”

“Yes, while she was with Peter in the hours before the bust she discovered he had a lot more muscle on the premises than you’d anticipated. She took the only moment alone that she had and called headquarters. We sent through Daehler since he was close.”

“Oh.”

“You really don’t like this Daehler kid do you?”

“He came to my house, I thought someone had come to hurt Derek and Esme.”

“I have absolute faith that you will keep those two safe Stiles.”

“You have anything else on Deucalion?”

His dad laughed down the phone, “You know I can’t discuss cases you’re not involved in.”

“But, I was kinda. I—“

“Hanging up now Stiles, get some rest.”

***

“Uncle Stiles!” Esme squealed as he walked through to the back patio of Deaton’s house, Danny was grilling hot dogs while the others sat around the table drinking out of mugs.

Danny looked up from the grill and beamed at him, “Good to see you man. You got the gas pipe fixed?”

“Got a fella in now fixing it up, I tried but it seems I am not a born handyman. Isn’t a bit cold to patio tonight?”

Deaton laughed, “Well, you tell that to Miss Esme here.”

Esme giggled, “I tricked Danny into making me hot dogs.”

Deaton stage whispered over the table to Esme, “Danny won’t ever let me eat Hot Dogs so you can come over and trick him anytime sugar.”

 “Don’t listen to him Esme, the reason he’s not allowed them is because he tries to eat all of them. In the world!”

Esme squealed then threw her head on the table with fits of laughter. “Looks like you’ve got a fan,” Deaton winked at Danny, who poked his tongue out at him before returning his attention to the grill. “Sit down Stiles!”

Stiles had been hovering over the table, suddenly nervous about sitting next to Derek around other people, he had no idea how to act as part of a couple. He sat next to Derek, and his panic only lasted another eight of a second because Derek threw his arm around Stiles and planted a kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear, “Everything okay?”

Stiles nodded then melted into the feeling of having Derek’s arm around him in front of others. It can’t have been easy for Derek, yet he was so absolute and willing with his signs of affection. Derek hadn’t even so much as kissed another man before Stiles out of fear but here he was being doing things even Stiles was afraid to do. He must have been gazing at Derek for longer than he’d realized because Danny was standing over the table, laying down the tray of hot dogs and laughing at Stiles, “You sure got it bad don’t ya?”

Stiles blushed, but instead of deflecting like he wanted to he took a page out of Derek’s book and grinned, “Real bad, you have no idea.”

Danny smiled then put his arms around Deaton’s shoulders, “I think I might.”

Esme sighed dramatically, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I just want a hot dog, is that too much to ask these days?”

Two hot dogs and half hour later Esme was playing in the backyard with Danny’s chihuahua, in rapture as the dog jumped over her face as she wriggled around in the grass.

“Esme’s always wanted a dog.”

“We’re never getting a chihuahua,” Stiles said, and then tried to back track when he saw Danny and Deacon both raised an eyebrow.

But instead of teasing Stiles for his slip Danny laughed, “That dog—“

“Was given to you by Xavier Cugat, yes dear I’m sure Stiles was impressed the first time you told him that story.”

Danny bumped his hip against Deaton, “Shh, you’re giving them the wrong idea about growing old together.”

“You’re only a few years older than me Danny,” Stiles pointed out.

Danny wrapped his arm around Deaton, “Yeah, but me and this lug here are gonna grow old together.”

“Damn tootin’” Deaton grinned, kissing Danny.

Stiles watched as Derek took in the scene in front of him. Stiles was sure this was a first for Derek, seeing other men behave this way behind closed doors, but his only reaction was to smile and then ask, “Are there many men who live together that are, you know…”

Deaton laughed, “Homosexuals? Precious, anytime you’ve got two men living alone together, nine times they’re one of us.”

“I lot of people I work with at the studio are living in hiding. One of the big stars I worked with when I was still an assistant even owned two houses next door to each other, one for his wife to live in and the other where he lived with his close personal friend Stuart.”

Deaton put his hand on Danny’s arm and flashed a proud smile to Derek “Danny’s an art director at MGM.”

“I’m still waiting on the story of how Stiles managed to land you Derek,” Danny said, leaning forward on his elbows in anticipation of a story.

“Hey!” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Danny dramatically, “you meaning to imply I’m lacking in charm?”

Danny nodded and laughed, “Actually, yes.”

“I think you’re plenty charming,” Derek said, wrapping his arm back around Stiles.

Deaton shook his head, “Stop trying to distract us from your story.”

“Well see, Derek here was supposed to be married to this society dame. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it so he high-tailed it right out of there, jumped right off his father’s yacht to get away. Being an out of work newspaper man, I was desperate for a story, but fate smiled down on me the day I recognized him from across—“

“That’s the plot of It Happened One Night, don’t try to swindle a Gable fan man,” Danny said with a smile.

“We should just tell them,” Derek said, “The truth is Stiles didn’t give me much of a choice, he just threw me in the back of his wagon one day and said he needed a wife. It was only when I got back to his cabin that I found that it wasn’t just him, there were seven of them in total— ”

“Worked on that film,” Danny grinned.

“Derek wanted to start an Inn that was only open on holidays.“

“I may have lied a little to get Stiles up there but his voice, I just had to have him performing White Christmas alongside of me.”

Deaton put his hands up, “You two are an evil match and I officially give up.”

Danny stood up and put his hand over his chest looking out toward the yard, “Have you ever seen anything so darling?”

Stiles and Derek both angled their heads around him to see Esme fast asleep on the grass, with Cha Cha the chihuahua’s head resting on the crook of her arm as he slept alongside her.

***

The streets were dark and empty so Stiles dared lean into Derek as Derek drove them home, he was sleepy and Derek was warm. Esme hadn’t woken between the trip from the grass into the car and was now sprawled along the back of the roomy ’49 Chevy.

“You really worried me tonight,” Derek sighed, losing the cheerful mask he’d held all night at Deaton’s.

“I’m sorry… I panicked… I wish I could promise I won’t do it again,” he let out a tired laugh, “I’ve had a gun with the trigger pulled aimed at my chest, been stabbed, almost been made by gang leaders but I’ve never felt so nervous than the moment I thought there was someone on the other side of that door who wanted to hurt the two of you.”

“I’ve felt like that every day since Esme has been in my life. Didn’t even know there was room in me to feel that way about someone else.”

“I’m not going back to the FBN,” Stiles said as they drove into his garage.

Derek pulled the key from the ignition then leaned into Stiles, pressing him down on his back against the seat, “I woulda killed you if you tried.”

Stiles stared up at him, trying to make out his face in the darkness, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek brought his face to Stiles, biting his lower lip hard while running his hand down the right side of Stiles’ chest, stopping at the hem to snake his hand underneath the fabric then running his sports calloused hand up across his stomach. Stiles shuddered at the touch and grabbed Derek’s chin, pulling him into a real kiss. Derek kissed back, slowly and cautiously. Stiles knew Derek was holding back after he’d fainted earlier in the day, but his carefulness just made Stiles want to kiss Derek harder.

Stiles broke away from the kiss, “I love you so goddamn much.”

Derek grinned and caught Stiles nipple with his thumbnail, flicking it before biting down on his neck and kissing hard enough to make a mark. Stiles was bucking his hips into Derek, struggling to contain himself when from the backseat he heard laughing, causing them to both sit up, Derek shooting up so fast he hit his head on the roof of the car.

Esme wasn’t looking at them though, her eyes were shut and she was just smiling. “Sleep laughing, she does that a lot too.”

Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek once more before they both climbed out of the car, Derek slinging Esme over his shoulder and carrying her to her bedroom. Stiles stood at the doorway as Derek tucked her in and just as he was thinking about how Esme could sleep through anything her eyes shot open, she looked around herself for a moment then once she knew where she was she looked up at Derek and said, “Daddy can Uncle Stiles tuck me in tonight?”

Stiles tucked the top sheet under the mattress, “Sleep tight princess.”

“I will. I was having a glorious dream. I’m going to go back to it now.”

“What were you dreaming?”

“My Mommy was teaching me to make daisy chains,” she smiled and closed her eyes, “I hope I can remember how to do it when I wake up.”

Stiles kissed her on the forehead and shut out the light next to the bed. Derek was in the doorway, the light was low but Stiles didn’t miss the tear that fell from the corner of his eye. He wrapped his arms around Derek and said softly, “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

The bed was shaking, Stiles’ body was being bounced and jerked around. He knew this feeling he’d been in more earthquakes than he could remember. He shot up to get out of bed, but was instead of the usual fallout he was met with big hazel eyes.

“Good Morning!” Esme grinned, still jumping on the bed in the space where Derek and Stiles had rolled apart during the night. Stiles looked over to Derek who was seemingly immune to Esme’s loud wake-up call and somehow still sleeping like a baby.

“Morning precious, how about we keep the noise to a minimum while Daddy’s sleeping?”

Esme nodded and crawled up the bed, studying Derek’s face, “Yup, he’s actually asleep. Sometimes he pretends he is still asleep when he doesn’t want to get up.”

Stiles felt it like a shot through the heart when he followed Esme’s gaze, looking down at Derek’s face. He wondered what it would feel like to look at him one day and be completely used to the fact that this beautiful man was his. He stood from the bed and cocked his head to the side, “Come on pumpkin, let’s get you some food, let your dad sleep in.”

Esme grinned, then as they were leaving the bedroom she looked back at her dad, “If I get sick he stays up all night watching me. Then he is so tired in the morning. I bet he stayed up watching you to make sure you didn’t die or something even worse than that. He’s quite special you know.”

“I know,” he said kissing the top of her head.

***

Esme was watching her Saturday morning kids shows when Stiles padded quietly back into the bedroom, slipping his arms around the warm, hard body in his bed. He placed a kiss on Derek’s bare shoulder before closing his eyes, the sound of Derek’s even breathing sending him quickly back to sleep. When he woke again Derek was staring down at him, elbow on his pillow, head in hand.

He grinned at Stiles, running his hand down Stiles’ chest resting on the waistband of his shorts, “Can I?” The fog of waking up again was starting to lift as he nodded his head. Derek pulled Stiles’ shorts down, looked at his cock, then closed his eyes for a second taking a deep breath before biting down on the marks between Stiles’ neck and collar bone that he’d made in the car the night before. He pulled away, lifting the sheets down so Stiles was on display, then ran his fingertips along the length of Stiles’ dick, “I’ve been jerking off to the wrong image, Jesus, it’s so fucking lo…” he started before giving up and wrapping his lips around Stiles’ dick.

“You’ve been jerking off thinking about my dick?”

Derek answered by hollowing out his cheeks and sucking like a vacuum on the first few inches of his dick. Stiles closed his eyes and threw his head back as Derek worked on his cock. He’d had his dick sucked by the same hustlers who service movie stars, the kind who could make you come in less than a minute if they were being cruel, but none of those mouths compared to Derek’s. Derek was eager and seemingly desperate to feel every inch of Stiles’ dick with his tongue, he had no technique and it was the sexiest thing Stiles had ever experienced. Stiles knew he could hold out, just lie back and enjoy but after his stay hospital without a moment alone, the need to come was too great. He opened his eyes and raised himself onto his elbows to take in the full sight of Derek Hale sucking his cock, knowing it would send him over the edge.

“Derek, fuck, I’m gonna come. You should pull off it’s—“ he couldn’t finish because Derek picked up the pace and added his hand to the base of Stiles cock, stroking and sucking him right over the edge. Stiles grabbed Derek’s hair out of instinct and fell back on to the bed as he came. Derek tried swallowing his come, but choked and pulled back as Stiles’ dick kept pulsing into his mouth.

Stiles stroked his dick through the last of his orgasm before pulling Derek up to the top of the bed then throwing his arms around him laughing, “I’m so sorry.”

“That was a lot of come,” Derek grinned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been two weeks without jerking off in my life.”

“I almost died,” he laughed and pulled Stiles in closer.

Stiles kissed Derek’s shoulder, “It was amazing.”

Derek pulled back and looked at Stiles, then after studying him a moment he looked down at the sheets and asked with an unfamiliar timidity, “Have there been a lot of men?”

Stiles shrugged into the mattress, “If I’d met you years ago it would only have been you.”

Derek seemed happy with the answer, but then his face tensed again, he looked embarrassed, “I feel like a child around you sometimes. I don’t even know how to have sex. I mean I know where everything goes, but— “

Stiles pulled Derek in and kissed his lips once before stroking his hand down Derek’s stubbled face, “Shhhh. You know how to have sex and you’re wonderful, the best even. Sex isn’t just sticking a dick in an ass, but you know, anytime you wanna try it out you’ve got a very willing coach here.”

“I think about you fucking me all the time, have since the day I met you at the creek and I didn’t even like you but I’d never wished more that I was the kind of man that just took what he wanted, never mind the consequences.”

“Well you’ve got me now and I fucking worship you.”

Derek smiled, then sighed somberly, “I can’t remember how I got by before I met you, it seems strange that I was able to go about life and not be sad because you weren’t with me.”

Stiles rested his head on Derek’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and running his fingers along the chest hair, “I know… I’ve never told anyone this but the real reason I started working for the FBN wasn’t just for kicks. There was an undercover agent at my college and Isaac and me were stupid enough to get caught in possession of coke. My dad didn’t want me to go away for it but the only way he could do that without losing his job was to recruit us as undercover agents,”

Stiles said softly into Derek’s skin, fingers still touching and rubbing the hard muscle underneath the hair, ”Isaac moved over to the FBI after college but I stayed with the FBN, sure I liked it but mostly I didn’t want to let my dad down again, I could barely look at him in the eye for years after the bust. But, the thing I realized when I was in the car coming back home yesterday was, that for the first time ever, I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I was stupid and got busted, I’m glad for every mistake that I’ve ever made because they all led me to you.”

Derek laughed, kissing the top of Stiles head, “God we’re so romantic, it’s like living in a forties melodrama.”

“That was a little corny huh?”

Derek’s arms wrapped tight around Stiles, “No, it was perfect, you’re perfect. The only kinda movie I ever thought I’d live out was _Now, Voyager.”_

“I don’t think I’ve seen it.”

 “Bette Davis can never be with the man she loves because of societal mores but finally finds happiness in giving all her love to a child that isn’t hers.”

Stiles sighed into Derek, “That won’t be us Derek. I won’t let it happen, even if we have to steal a boat and sail to France so we can be together.”

“We could always hop a ship or fly.”

“Well, yes we could always go with one of the more logical options.”

Derek laughed, kissing Stiles’ forehead that still lay on his chest, “I’m going to need to get our belongings from Beacon Hills soon, make arrangements for the house— ”

Stiles sat up, “You’re staying?”

Derek frowned, “Of course I am. Everybody knows us in Beacon Hills, it’s not an option. Not to mention that I refuse to send Esme back to that school.”

“Fuck Derek,” Stiles grinned, leaning down to kiss him then pulling away slightly before Derek had a chance to kiss him back, “you really want this don’t you?”

“It’s all I want,” he said earnestly, pulling him down to kiss.

The door started rattling behind them. “Yoo hoo, why is the door locked? I can’t get in,” Esme sing-songed.

***

They’d been back in Beacon Hills for two days when Miss Morrell had been called in one last time to watch Esme for the day while Stiles and Derek packed up not only Derek’s life but also what was left of Laura and Vernon’s. Derek had told Stiles that most everything in the house was theirs, down to the little figurines on the fireplace but he’d never felt right about boxing them away. Stiles had told Derek they could put them up in Venice, which then lost them another hour packing as Derek showed Stiles just how much his thoughtfulness meant to him.

It was around two when they’d decided to take a break and hit the diner for some lunch but before they’d taken three steps into the joint Stiles was met with a barreling bear hug from Scott.

“Where’ve you been man?” He grinned as he pulled back before his eyes narrowed a little to see the man standing next to Stiles, and said voice laced with confusion, “Hi Coach.”

Derek smiled awkwardly at Scott and nodded, “Scott.”

Scott kept looking between Derek and Stiles like he was trying to make the connection then leaned in to whisper into Stiles’ ear, “What’d you do to get Coach on your back?”

Stiles couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he responded, “We’re working our way up to it.”

Obviously being in Beacon Hills was bringing out the snarky coach in Derek because he just groaned quietly before rolling his eyes at Stiles then walking past him to sit at the most out of the way booth in the diner. Scott just laughed obliviously and clapped his hand on Stiles’ back, “I’ve missed you man, what with Allison being at the Health Spa and Jackson up the creek, I’ve only got Lydia to keep me company. I went past your house but the rental sign was up, and after that night at the Hop Spot I don’t know… I thought maybe you’d been shot but no one would tell me anything.”

Stiles nodded his head toward the door, before walking outside, Scott following right behind him, “Man, I’m not coming back to Beacon Hills High. Look, I like you a lot so I’m gonna be on the level, I’m a narcotics agent.”

“That’s what Jackson tried telling Lydia before they sent him to juvie hall.”

“You don’t feel like taking a punch at me?”

Scott smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “Nah, if it weren’t for you man Allison would have died that night and what you said to her father? He actually lets me go visit her at the spa. He never even let me take Allison home from school before.”

Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder, smiling, “I’m glad man.”

“Was Coach undercover too? I used to notice him looking at you, figured he was just an invert but I suppose it was because you were working together.” Stiles looked in through the window to where Derek was sitting, tapping his fingers pretending not to impatiently wait for Stiles. It was adorable and Jesus was the man handsome, at least three women had stopped to smile at him just since Stiles had been watching through the glass. “Dylan?”

“Huh?”

“I was asking you about how long Coach has been undercover for, you just zoned man.”

Stiles laughed, “Surely you’ve watched enough movies to know I can’t tell you that.”

Scott smiled and nodded his head knowingly, “Gotcha, maybe I’ll see you again sometime. I think I’d make a pretty boss agent. I wanna be one like you though, not that stiff Agent Daehler.”

Stiles frowned, “What do you know about him?”

“He was asking strange questions after the fire, actually I suppose they weren’t strange now I think about it. But as soon as I answered he did a Houdini.”

A group of kids walked by them into the diner so Stiles pulled Scott further to the side, “Scott, what did Daehler say to you?”

“He asked if anyone had been in the hall before the fire, I said told him I got everyone out before the fire started, then he asked if I knew a kid who lived with his aunt. He didn’t seem to know your name and I didn’t wanna give you up but he pulled a gun on me. So I said I knew you, didn’t give up your name though. He asked if you were hot in the zipper for your aunt. Of course I said no, man I thought he was going to shoot me but he just walked away didn’t even interview anyone else.” Scott’s eyes widened at Stiles’ frown, “Oh man is he a crooked cop?”

“No man,” Stiles said clapping his back, “Just following procedure.”

Derek put on an annoyed face when Stiles finally came to the table, but Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Don’t pretend you’re annoyed when you’re really just glad to see me.”

Derek grinned, “Okay. I ordered us burgers.”

“And fries?” he said, realizing how much he was starting to sound like Esme.

“Yes and fries. I even ordered you a cherry cola because you’re a sixteen year old girl.”

I love you, he mouthed across the table Derek blushed a little and bit his lip in response. Stiles pointed his finger, laughing at him, “Now who’s the sixteen year old girl?”

“You looked worried,” Derek nudged his head toward the door, “is there something going on?”

Stiles smiled at Derek, wishing he could take his hand across the table, “Nah, Scott was just talking about how much he missed Allison,” he lied.

***

There was one box left to pack but Stiles was taking his time rifling through all of Derek’s things, the most interesting so far was Laura’s old photo album that was mostly filled with pictures of Derek.

“You look so handsome,” Stiles said, fingers tracing the paper between the photographs in the book.

“I still have my old baseball uniform.”

“That had better have been an offer to dress up in it for me.”

“I could be convinced.” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind, biting the back of his neck, then whispering in his ear, “What do I get in this deal?”

Stiles turned in Derek’s embrace, snaking his tongue out to lick Derek’s bottom lip then pulling back, “I’d say about anything you wanted.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Derek said with a twisted smile.

Stiles surged forward plastering Derek to the floor, kissing him into the rug that lay beneath him, “You’re not allowed to say things like that and expect me to be able to think about anything else, ever again. Jesus.”

Derek laughed into his mouth and pulled Stiles back down by the back of his head, kissing roughly until Stiles lost his breath and rolled down alongside Derek on the rug. “Sorry,” Derek grinned.

“Try look a little more convincing next time you try to kill me with your sexiness.”

Derek laughed, pulling himself up to rest his head on his hand, “Just think about it this way, the faster you pack, the sooner we’re home. In a bed, with a lock on the door.”

Stiles sat up, “You’re evil.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he laughed as he stood, but then he stopped when he looked out the window, “huh.”

Stiles stood quickly to see what Derek was looking at, “There’s no-- ”

The door rattled as someone knocked from the other side, before Stiles had a chance to overreact Derek put a hand on his arm and said soothingly, “It’s just a telegraph boy.”

“Redirected telegram for Mr. Derek Hale,” the boy said as Derek opened the door, Derek nodded his head. The boy’s serious face melted into a relieved smile, “Geez, well finally. I’ve been coming here for the past four days trying to get this delivered, instructions are for it to be delivered personally.”

The boy pulled out the telegram and opened his mouth to speak but Derek smiled, “It’s okay buddy I can read.”

“Sorry boss, sender paid for the full service.” Derek rolled his eyes then sighed, flicking his hand in the air to tell the boy to go ahead, “Derek. Stop. Beacon Hills Memorial Park or—“

Stiles grabbed the telegram out of the boy’s hand passing it to Derek then scowled, “I think we’ve heard enough.” Then after handing the boy a quarter from his back pocket slammed the door in his face.

Derek looked up at Stiles from the telegram he’d just read, his tanned face suddenly pale, “Stiles, nobody else knows where we scattered the ashes,” he whispered as he handed the telegram to Stiles with shaky hands.

DEREK. BEACON HILLS MEMORIAL PARK OR CARMEL-BY-THE-SEA? PLEASE ADVISE YOUR PREFERRED PERMANENT DESTINATION. UNSIGNED.


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles drove Derek and Esme across town to the Beacon Hills Motor Inn for the night. After the telegram had arrived they’d finished packing quickly with shaky hands and unarticulated fear but it was too late to drive once they’d collected Esme and there was no way Stiles was going to let them to sleep in that house another night.

“Will you be requiring a room too, sir?” The woman behind the desk asked Stiles as she passed Derek his room key.

“Oh no, Uncle Stiles—“ Esme started.

Derek put his hand over her mouth gently and laughed, “Someone thinks her uncle reads stories much better than her father does.”

The woman laughed, “I’ve got eight grandchildren, all the same,” then she tilted her head a little and looked over Stiles with mild curiosity, “I hate to be a gossip, I really do. But I wasn’t aware the Hale’s had any living relatives?”

Stiles grinned, “No, I’m actually Derek’s cousin from his mothers side.”

She smiled, “Well that explains it!” She looked at him a little longer, “Yes, yes, I can definitely see some family resemblance now that I know what to look for. That must be nice for the child. We all worry about that poor girl growing up without a mother.”

Stiles coughed, “Ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, but I think this little chicken here is falling asleep on her feet.”

“Of course,” she smiled, then handed over a key to Stiles as he finished signing the guestbook, “room nine, up the stairs.”

Derek gave her a polite nod and walked out with Esme in tow, “Thank you.” Stiles shot a fake smile.

The woman winked then whispered conspiratorially, “I put you on the other side of the building so you don’t get woken up too early by Miss So and So.”

Derek was waiting outside the reception for Stiles, “That woman, I don’t think I even realized how bad this place was until I was in Venice where not once have I had commentary on my poor child.”

“Happens a lot?”

Derek nodded, “There’s a reason we only swam at the creek.”

“That lady doesn’t know anything,” Esme shook her head, “Daddy actually has a lot of money, he just says we have to save it for when I go to college.”

Stiles walked them to their room, and was somehow conned into reading two chapters of Alice in Wonderland to Esme while Derek just laid spread out on the bed with his head resting on his hand listening like a child. When she was finally asleep, he stood looking over at Esme who was sleeping on her back spread out like a starfish on the bed.

“I guess we should talk to her how much we share about Daddy and Uncle Stiles.”

Derek smiled, and stood pulling Stiles close to him and resting his head on Stiles’ shoulder, “I think she’s smart enough to understand. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to speak to her sooner.”

“Too busy being handsome and wonderful probably.”

“That must have been it,” Derek laughed then took a sharp jagged breath, “I don’t want you to go to that house tonight.”

“It’s not exactly my dream evening but what other choice do we have apart from ignoring the telegram?”

“I like ignoring better than you going to Peter’s house.”

“He’s dead,” he pulled back to look at Derek in the eyes, “he can’t hurt me. Just get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right. Not going to happen.”

“Then watch the Jack Parr show,” he said kissing him. Derek angled Stiles against the wall behind them with one hand bracing himself on the wall above Stiles’ head and the other grabbing at his side as he kissed him roughly. Stiles grinned at Derek as he caught his breath, “You’re evil and I’m on to you.”

“Fine,” he pouted, eyebrows furrowed for full effect, “just… be careful okay?”

***

Peter’s house wasn’t hard to find, Derek had told Stiles to look out for the incongruous multi-level Spanish colonial on the edge of town and there was literally one house that fit that description.

The house was surprisingly normal. There were no animal heads on the walls, or swords framed above the fireplace like he’d seen before in other cases. It was so normal in fact that it almost felt clinical. His office held nothing but financial records for the Hop Spot and after almost an hour in there he found nothing but the books of an upright citizen.

It wasn’t until he’d reached the master bedroom that he found anything to suggest an actual human lived in this home. Beside the bed was a glass of milk that had soured and formed visible lumps. His search of the bedside tables revealed nothing but a worn copy of _How To Win Friends and Influence People_ and two surprisingly dog-eared bibles.

After looking through the meticulously arranged dresser drawers and every closet upstairs and coming up empty he made his way back down through the kitchen. He was shocked by the dumb luck discovery of an open shoebox sitting on the kitchen table. It was filled with letters, hundreds of them, all addressed to Peter Hale. Stiles picked up the letter that lay next to the box on the table:

_I don’t have that longing for exploration and psychical experience that you do. I expect that is why god gave me you, so you can go out and do and I can listen to your stories. I often think our souls are perfectly aligned, like we are both parts of the same piece._

_It occurred to me as I left the cinema last night that my life is a movie, or rather at least it feels like I am always watching a movie of my life, it’s never quite real and only when you are near do I feel closest to existing outside of my mind. I dream we are one and wake feeling whole because the most thrilling part of love is the dream of it, is it not? And ours is a greater love than most will ever know, our love is pure and untainted by the sins of the flesh._

_— Duke_

He skimmed through all the opened envelopes in the box, they were all in the same handwriting and they went back years. The letter at the very bottom of the box was in an official United States Army envelope dated 1941:

_…it is a long cry from our joyful days at Stanford. If I didn’t love you so dearly I would wish you were here fighting alongside me, instead I pray you break your leg, fracture it in a thousand pieces, just to keep you from this place. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you from this depravity…_

The next letter on top of that was not till 1944 addressed to Peter Hale ℅ Beacon County Asylum.

_I’ve tried to see you but they won’t let me. Those fools tried to tell me that I am not immediate family but they don’t understand, they refused to understand that I am your only family…_

It was pitch black outside and the wind was picking up. Although Stiles had considered himself an adult for many years he was not immune to the creepiness of ghostly tree noises especially while standing in a dead man’s kitchen. When a branch snapped outside he was done, and less than a minute later was driving away from Peter’s house with a racing heart and a box of strange love letters beside him.

***

Stiles knocked on Derek’s door in full sight of the nosey owner at the perfectly reasonable time of eight in the morning. She winked across the courtyard at him calling out, “I bet I’m your favorite person after all the extra sleep you got last night.”

Stiles could think of no reasonable response so he just grinned at her, barreling inside Derek’s room the second he opened it. Derek didn’t let him go far once the door was closed, wrapping his arms around Stiles and kissing him softly, “A lifetime of sleeping alone, now I can’t go a night.”

“Poor baby,” Stiles laughed, “Esme didn’t keep you warm?”

Esme giggled from across the room where she was coloring. Derek turned and pointed, “This thing here left me with about an inch to sleep on after she had rotated herself to sleep along the pillows before kicking me in the head repeatedly during the night.”

Esme’s giggles had turned into tearful laughter, “I must have been dreaming I was a donkey.”

“Well, donkey, how would you like to stop for Danny’s Donuts on the way home?”

Her eyes widened and she jumped up off the bed, “Would I ever!”

Apart from Esme’s deep concern that Danny’s was now called Denny’s the ride home was smooth and without obstacle. Derek had hired movers but after the telegram they’d decided not to take any risks having strangers know of Derek’s new address so he had driven the truck while Stiles let Esme ride in the front with him for a change.

“Daddy and me talked about how your special relationship was secret.”

“How do you feel about that baby girl?”

“Oh just fantastic. I think being in a secret club is about the best thing anyone could be in.”

Stiles smiled sadly, “I wouldn’t know honey, I’ve never been in any club that wasn’t secret.”

***

Stiles and Derek sat up, letters spread out over the kitchen table, it was past midnight but they were still only two thirds of the way through the needlessly wordy and hyperbolically sentimental letters.

“I’ve never heard of this Duke guy,” Derek said, throwing down the letter he was reading, “I was never close with Peter even when I was young but— man this whole thing is just— “

“Sad.”

“I honestly can’t tell if they were lovers or friends because right here Duke is proclaiming his undying love,” he said pointing towards the top of the letter, then turning over to the next page he pointed at another paragraph,” yet here he’s writing about hookers with supple breasts.”

Stiles nodded grabbing one of the letters on his read pile, “This one here from forty six has him saying he is thinking of proposing to a girl but then he goes on to say he will never love her because Peter already has all of his love. It’s gotta be him, he had to have sent that telegram.”

“He mentioned Fisherman’s Wharf in the last letter he wrote,” he passed the letter to Stiles, “and he talks about the chill of the wind in Tiburon in a few of these.”

“Jesus Christ I’m an idiot,” Stiles laughed angrily, shaking his head, “his name has been pounded into my skull since the fire how the fuck did I miss this. Of course he lives in Tiburon, that’s near San Francisco right?”

“It’s in Marin, just on the other side of the Golden Gate.” Derek frowned, “Think you need to fill me in on the significance.”

“The day of the fire we learned Peter was working with someone else. We assumed he was Peter’s boss from a larger gang in San Francisco. The guy goes by Deucalion.”

“Duke…” Derek shook his head, “No, no it can’t be short for Deucalion.”

“You know Deucalion?”

Derek shook his head, brows furrowed, “No. Stiles, Deucalion was Grandpa Hale’s first name.”

“That… okay… I don’t know how to process that. What does this mean?”

“It’s a family name. Grandpa Hale had a brother, Lucien, who lived in an estate somewhere in Marin County but I don’t know where though, all the family history was lost in the fire. When I was at Berkeley I went over there once to see if I could find it, but I didn’t know what I was looking for or who… family I guess.” Derek sank his head in his hands, “This is crazy.”

“Maybe it is a coincidence, maybe your uncle didn’t really have a disturbing relationship with his—“

“Cousin.”

“What makes you—“

“My father was named after his uncle. I’m certain Lucien paid the same homage to his brother.”

“I suppose it’s fitting, Deucalion did marry his cousin. Maybe Duke is really into this purism thing.”

Derek laughed, “Really?”

Stiles hurried to his bookshelf in the living room, pulling out book five of his World Book Encyclopedia collection, shuffling to the page that mentioned Deucalion. “I took a few Ancient History classes in college and it appears all knowledge has not been forgotten after all… Yup, Deucalion was married to his cousin.”

“The single downside to discovering you were not my student was the simultaneous discovery that you were much smarter than me.”

Stiles batted his lashes, “I can play dumb if that’s how you like it daddy.”

Derek pulled Stiles into his lap, “I hope you never do.”

“Oh boy, this is going to end in blow jobs isn’t it.”

Derek laughed, pulling Stiles in for a kiss, “You betcha.”

***

“Deucalion is Peter Hale’s cousin. Or at least we’re ninety percent sure he is,” Stiles blurted down the phone unsure if his dad had even come on the line yet.

“Good morning to you too, Son.”

“Sir, the telegram Derek got yesterday, I’m sure it’s from Deucalion. Surely this makes the threat FBN business? Perhaps if you let Daehler know he could keep— ”

“We’ve lost contact with Daehler.”

“Pardon?”

“He hasn’t reported in since he arrived in San Francisco. He’s off the radar, we’re going to send someone—“

“I’ll do it.”

“Absolutely not, even if it weren’t for the fact that you have no medical clearance, you’re out remember?”

“Try and convince me you filed that paperwork.”

“I could have.”

“Sir, I can’t sit back while someone sends death threats to my—“

“How does Derek feel about you wanting to do this?”

“It’s not important because he’d do the same for me, I just need to make it so he never has to.”

“Okay.”

“Oh— really?”

“At least this way you’ve got back-up and a badge. I’m not stupid enough to believe you wouldn’t go on your own.”

“I hope no one ever finds out about your blind nepotism.”

“You and me both,” he laughed down the phone.

***

Stiles couldn’t tell his dad he suspected Daehler of being crooked, it wasn’t the kind of accusation you made about an agent without solid proof, but Stiles was certain he would get it in San Francisco. He’d stopped through headquarters on the way up north to pick up a copy of the file on Deucalion and the address for Daehler’s apartment off-campus at Berkeley. He’d taken the coastal route, after multiple trips on the I-5 over the past month he didn’t care how much longer his drive took, as long as his eyes got a break from the endless flat plains of inland California. He took the exit at Solvang, a small Danish town in the Santa Ynez valley where no one looks over your shoulder and bought himself lunch while he read over the Deucalion files.

It appeared the FBN had had their eye on this guy since the forties, but he was a ghost, none of their operatives had ever been able to pin him down. The file was thick but it had almost nothing on Deucalion. Instead it read more like a book on the Bermuda Triangle. Agents went in, and never came back. Three agents had gone missing in the past five years alone, in fact the only agent who had come back alive was… Daehler. According to the file Daehler had been on the case in forty-six, the year after he’d stopped working with Erica, he was pulled when the FBI made an arrest in the case. There was a photo of a young latino guy no older than Stiles attached to a rap sheet that seemed apropos of nothing. There was nothing in the file that even really connected this young guy with the case.”

“More pie?” The busty waitress with a blinding smile asked.

Stiles shook his head, gathering his files, “No thanks doll. Say, you got a phone around here?”

“In the hall.” She smiled before moving on to the next table. The phone in the hall was private enough, so Stiles dropped a coin and dialed.

“You didn’t tell me Daehler was on this case in forty-six.”

“No, just like I don’t tell any of my agents what case you are on. It’s not the way the Bureau works Stiles.”

“There’s no information on the outcome of the FBI arrest.”

“His name is Juancho Martinez, the believe him to be Deucalion, he’s been on death row for the past two years.”

“But Deucalion isn’t an alias.”

“I suspected that the moment Erica got in touch. At the time of the arrest I tried to argue that the Martinez kid was just a small time street kid, he was too young to be Deucalion, it didn’t fit. But Daehler backed up the FBI with an eyewitness and his testimony was enough to put Martinez away.”

“Why would you send Daehler back?”

“He may have made a mistake, that we are yet to confirm, but he’s familiar with this case—”

“A mistake? FBI puts some kid on death row just because what, his name sounds dangerous? His skin was brown and he carried a knife? And somehow Daehler backs it up. How the fuc—“

“Watch your tone. Let me know what you find when you get to Berkeley.”

***

Stiles was not at all surprised to see the car that had belonged to Dylan O’Brien parked right out front of the blue four-story apartment building in Berkeley. He banged on the apartment door and waited a few minutes for an answer.

He was just about to break the lock when a girl with long black hair ducked her head out of the door opposite him, the skunk-like smell of weed wafting from her apartment and permeating the hall, “Nobody lives there man.”

He turned to face her fully, “Are you sure? My buddy was supposed to be moving in last week, invited me for a blast party tonight,” he winked, “you picking up?”

She smiled and nodded, “Yeah man, that’s a king-sized drag, but that pad’s been empty since last year. You’re cute. If you don’t find your friend come find us, it’s always a kick to blast with someone fresh.”

He grinned widely fingering the lock pick set in his varsity jacket, “You got it kitten. I’ll come by later if you’ve got any roach left.”

“Oh we’re dirty with roach,” she laughed before shutting the door.

The girl was wrong, someone had been in the apartment, maybe Daehler hadn’t been living here but he’d moved in his things. The closet was half-full with his hipster clothes, and across the room a towel lay over the kitchen chair near a cold half-pot of coffee sat on the countertop.

Stiles swept the place clean but didn’t find a single clue to Daehler’s location. On his way back to the car he knocked on all the surrounding apartments to ask if anyone had seen his buddy but every kid said the same, never seen the guy.

He was standing over the car outside when a couple of guys approached him whistling, “That your car, gator?”

Stiles nodded, “Some no-goodnik clouted it from me, finally tracked it down.”

The shorter of the two guys said, “The clown must’ve cut out right after, it’s been sitting here for days.”

“We’ve been wondering who owns the boss kemp since it got here. Not many kids around here can afford rides like that,” the taller said before laughing, “It’s been freezing this week, you’re lucky you don’t have any tramps living in there.”

“You don’t remember when the car got here do you?”

Both guys shook their heads, before the tall one said as he ran his hand along the hood, “Man, I can’t wait to hear the cut out roar on this thing.”

The car wasn’t locked so Stiles climbed in, then looked to the guys through the window as he hot-wired the engine, “Creep stole my keys.” They both nodded their heads. Stiles didn’t know how two guys in college could be so naive but it worked for him so he just smiled as he waved them off and drove away.

Stiles wondered when his dumb luck would wear off when on pulling down the sun visor a slip of paper with an address in Marin County literally fell in his lap. He’d made it across the bridge and as far as Sausalito before he caved and pulled into a gas station to phone Derek.

“I think I’m close, baby.”

“You shouldn’t call me baby unless you wanna make me cry,” Derek said softly down the other end.

Stiles smiled, before taking a deep breath, imagining Derek’s face on the other end of the line, “I’m just gonna scope the place out, Meadow Hill Drive sounds pleasant enough, right? I’ve got local sheriff’s back up available if I find anything. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be… Neither of us are dumb enough to believe that.”

 His jaw felt stiff and his throat tight around the words that he wanted to believe, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you Derek. I’m not going to let anyone get in the way of that okay?”

“I love you Stiles.”

“Forever baby,” he said sadly as he hung up the receiver.

It was getting dark and Stiles had no real plan. He wasn’t supposed to have come this far, his deal with his dad was that he would look for Daehler at his residence then report back but he knew if he did that his dad would make him wait for back-up before he followed the lead or worse come home and let the FBI take over the investigation for a missing agent. His dad wouldn’t understand that Derek and Esme were in even more danger with Daehler feeding information to Deucalion about their whereabouts in Venice because his father didn’t believe any of his men were capable of double-crossing.

Stiles paced up and down the forecourt of gas station trying to think of a plan, but he was better at thinking on the spot and doing as opposed to intricately planning ahead. He didn’t expect he would catch the man the FBI and FBN had been after for more than ten years in one night. It was crazy to even try but the thought of Derek and Esme laughing across the breakfast table from him replaced logical thought, and anger urged through his chest and down through his veins.

His rage replaced the nerves as he jumped back into the car and slammed on the gas, heading north as the sun quickly sank behind the tall Monterey pine trees. All he had to do was somehow identify this was the right house then he could leave, drive to the sheriff’s and send them in to make the arrest. He didn’t need to put himself in danger, didn’t need to break his promise that he’d make to Derek earlier in the day to come home safe.

The house was almost at the top of a long winding road that led up a steep hill. He parked the car in the ditch, little space to park elsewhere. He could see up through the long driveway that led to the top of the hill that the lights were on in the house, no not house, estate, manor, mansion even but that wasn’t a house. He started up the driveway before it occurred to him to check the trunk for extra weapons.

The trunk didn’t pop automatically and it was almost a minute later before Stiles’ got the lock unpicked and popped open the lid. It was almost too dark to see into the trunk, the lights from the house above the only illumination for a mile, but Stiles didn’t need clarity of vision to recognize the stench of a corpse. As his eyes adjusted he was able to make out a man’s body lying face down, a white woolen sweater was stained red with blood, and the back of the head was barely recognizable as human. Stiles turned from the smell and took a deep breath of the fresh air, composing himself to roll the dead body over.

“You can do this,” he whispered as he gripped the left side of the dead body and on the count of two pulled it over on its back. There was an empty face staring up at him, but he was still looking at his hands touching the sweater, unwilling to admit to himself that he was scared to look at the face of a dead man.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he looked over at the face. The corpse’s eyes were open, face brown with dried blood but barely scathed considering the top and back of it’s head was near blown clean off. Stiles pulled the lighter he kept from his pocket to illuminate the face afraid, but certain, of who the face belonged to.

The eyes that were once a sharp blue were now dull, almost transparent, and it was strange because somehow lying dead in the trunk of the car, Daehler looked younger and less creepy than he had alive. Hundreds of thoughts raced through Stiles’ mind, but the most overpowering one was, ‘I was wrong.’ He took one last look at Daehler, at where the bullet had come through his chest and soaked the front of his sweater, at the dirt on the knees of his corduroys where he would have been forced to the ground before he was shot.

A chill shot down his spine as he realized whoever had shot Daehler had done it elsewhere before driving the car back to the apartment building leaving him to be found, the cold weather probably the only reason the body hadn’t been discovered earlier.

Stiles knew the only logical thing to do was to drive the car down to the Marin Sheriff’s station and wait for the FBI to swoop in to investigate, make wrong assumptions before arresting the guy with the darkest skin.

***

Stiles had made it around the back of the house without alerting killer dogs or Alcatraz-like sirens, but it made him nervous. It was almost too easy in a way that nothing ever was. He saw a man inside, standing near a fireplace talking to someone, but as he leaned in too look he felt a blunt object dig into his back.

“Move it buster,” a man said, his voice gravelly like he’d smoked too many cigarettes.

 Stiles turned slowly, hands raised. The man was short and balding, the scars on his face were those of a good lackey not the man in charge. “I was just out walking my dog and—“

“Listen genius unless you want lead poisoning I suggest you follow me, boss has been waiting for you.”

“He—“

“I don’t get paid to listen to you talk,” he growled, pushing the gun deeper into Stiles’ back, “No more lip outta you pally.”

Inside the house was warm and smelt like cinnamon, which didn’t make sense, the house he would be killed in should smell like cigars and mildew not like his mother’s baking. Stiles was led down the hall and shoved into the large room at the end of it, gun still to his back.

The brunette man with the slicked back hair who he’d seen through the window was still standing near the fireplace. He turned to them, “That will be fine Edward. Why don’t you go help yourself to some snickerdoodles? I used extra cinnamon just like you love.” The pressure was off his back and the man gone, shutting the door behind him. They were alone and the man in front of him held no weapon, Stiles’ eyes fixed on the door behind him as he calculated how quickly he could make a run for it. The man shook his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue, “You’d be dead within three seconds. I’ve got men all over this house. Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

Sitting would put him at a disadvantage to run but closer to his gun in his ankle holster but considering he didn’t have any say in the matter he sat quickly, taking the large leather chair that sat in front of the bookshelf, “So you’re Deucalion…”

“And you’re Special Agent Stilinski,” he said circling in on Stiles with careful consideration, “you’re not as ugly as Peter said you were. What about me? Am I all you imagined and more?”

Stiles frowned, “Apart from wishing you dead and wondering just how demented you really were after reading your letters to Peter, I can’t say I’ve thought much about you.”

Deucalion smiled, “Ahh, you say demented, I say devoted. You must understand that you tried to take the most precious thing in the world from me,” he shook his head, “I’m not a longanimous man Mr. Stilinski. You antagonize me, well I can’t help but have you killed right back. I was hoping you’d be here yesterday, but there’s no counting for lack of intelligence is there?”

“You left Daehler for me to find.”

“I’m like a cat that way, I like leaving gifts. I find the best way to find someone you’re looking for is to stop looking. It’s absolutely axiomatic,” Stiles frowned at Deucalion’s smirk, “Oh, don’t look so glum. You actually think Daehler would have the address to my private residence? Come on now, you’re a better agent than that.”

“I thought he was working for you.”

His brow furrowed as he nodded his head, “Oh yes he was.”

“Why would you—“

Daehler sighed impatiently and looked at the closed door, before lighting a cigarette and resting back onto the settee opposite Stiles, “Does it matter Stiles? You’re going to be dead soon anyway and if it helps you won’t even be around to know it’s happened.”

“Humor me,” Stiles said, the tightness in his throat almost all-consuming, making it hard for him to speak.

“Your buddy decided to bring his personal problems to the office, started a fire he had no right to start.”

“A literal fire?” Deucalion nodded as he exhaled his smoke towards Stiles’ face making him cough, “Daehler started the fire at the Hop Spot?”

Deucalion took another long drag of his cigarette then said on exhale, “Tried to cover up killing his girl, not that it worked, the fire never even make it all the way to the hall before the fire trucks arrived. Nobody hurts Peter and gets away with it.”

Stiles heart raced, anger radiating out under his ribs up towards his shoulders at Daehler for doing that to Erica before the inevitable sadness took over once more as he realized Erica’s last moments were terrifying in a whole other way.

 The door swung open, and there was a sound of a trolley being pushed. “My ears were burning,” said a raspy male voice. Stiles craned his neck but couldn’t see anyone, but the creaking trolley pushed forward echoing throughout the room. He lifted his head further to see the source, jumping when the voice was beside him, “down here.”

“Peter,” Stiles stammered, as he looked at the man. He was in a large wheelchair, the hand furthest from Stiles was raw and blistered and as he turned Stiles saw the same burns on the right side of his face.

Deucalion grinned at Peter like a lovesick boy and stood, “I didn’t want to start without you.”

“You know my heart.”

Stiles spluttered, “Ugh. Are you two for fucking real?”

Peter laughed, “An interesting line from the invert.”

Stiles pointed between them, “You are in love with your cousin. You’re not just an invert, you’re a hillbilly invert.”

Deucalion had his hand around Stiles’ throat, “We are not inverts,” he spat out through gritted teeth.

Deucalion’s thumbs were pressing hard against his windpipe, making it hard for him to breathe, he laughed to himself thinking that he would probably die from asthma before either of them got a chance at slicing him limb from limb or whatever it was Peter enjoyed doing when he killed. The second Deucalion let up Stiles, laughed, “Yeah, actually you are. Giant fucking homosexuals who—“

Stiles woke to Deucalion dragging him under his armpits through the hall and out the front door toward the freestanding garage. Peter followed in his chair, laughing at Stiles as he woke, “You know, I could take your head off first if that’ll help with the headache.”

“Fuck you,” he spat out, defenseless in Deucalion’s arms.

“Yes, you’re right, I don’t think I’ll quite be happy until I slice through those Achilles tendons. Maybe sit back and drink a cocktail while we watch you try to escape. That was good work you know I can barely walk five feet thanks to you.”

Stiles’ was still a little dizzy, his head pounding from whatever it was that had knocked him out but he was sure he saw a Sheriff like figure dash across the driveway. He was sure he was hallucinating when he saw no less than four more figures with hats scatter across the small patch of light near the boundary of the property.

Deucalion was getting closer to the garage, and Stiles knew it was all over the moment they got in there. Imaginary police or not Stiles would rather a quick death outside the garage than a slow one inside, “Are you sure that’s the Achilles Peter, or has Duke here been fucking you into the bed so hard every night you can’t walk?”

Peter scowled, “We live by the grace of our lord.”

“Oh, so you’re more into a full clothed frottage,” he laughed loudly hoping to draw attention to the possibly imaginary back-up, “I dig. Hell, you wouldn’t want to upset the lord by touching a dick that isn’t yours. I’m kinda confused about where this whole serial murder thing fits in with—“

Peter raised himself out of his chair, barreling Stiles out of Deucalion’s grip and on to the ground. He pulled a knife from his belt and held it to Stiles’ throat, “I know what you’re trying to do but I don’t think Duke here is going to be too happy with me if I just slit your throat here and now.”

Deucalion dropped to a crouch above Stiles, “It’s true, I need to see you pay. I’d do it myself, but I can’t. I’m just not the type, and a man really can’t do things he isn’t the type to do. It’s rarely wise or enjoyable.”

Stiles laughed, feeling the blade of the knife rub against his skin as he did, “This is like this Hitchcock movie isn’t it? You gonna put me in a wooden chest then throw a dinner party to revel in your—“

The sound of footsteps grew heavy, they were loud enough for both Deucalion and Peter to turn, giving Stiles a chance to overpower Peter, slamming his head back forcefully into the stone path knocking him out cold. Deucalion launched toward Stiles as he stood, but then stopped midway, dropping to his knees. There was blood trickling down the path from behind Peter’s head. Stiles didn’t take the time to survey the damage and ran toward the men in sheriff’s uniforms as their guns started firing at Deucalion’s men who had quickly filed from the house.

A deputy aimed his gun at Stiles, but Stiles put his arms up, “Don’t shoot, Special Agent Stilinski, FBN.”

The deputy nodded, “We got a call from Special Agent Hale instructing us of your whereabouts, looks like we got here just in time.” Stiles didn’t even have a chance to respond as the deputy had ducked behind a water fountain and was shooting at a man hanging from a first floor window.

Between the six deputies, Deucalion’s men dropped like flies, only two standing when Deucalion let out a sound much like a roar and ran toward Stiles with pure rage.

Stiles pulled the gun that Deucalion had stupidly not confiscated from his leg and fired twice hitting Deucalion with both bullets in the chest, his body falling no more than a foot away from Stiles. Stiles looked over at Peter, the blood had pooled around his head, his body still and chest unmoving. Deucalion was staring up at him from below, still breathing but bleeding out rapidly.

Deucalion’s hands were empty and when Stiles patted him down there was no knife or gun concealed, “You wanted me to kill you.”

“What is life without him?” He breathed out, a tear forming in his eye but never rolling down his cheek.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

“Do I look cool?” Esme asked parading around the kitchen in her new black pedal pushers with matching long black sleeved turtleneck that she’d begged Danny’s mom to sew for her despite Mrs. Mahealani’s worried protest that little girls should be in dresses. Esme had just flashed her gummy smile and a day later she had her very own beatnik uniform.

Stiles laughed, “Sure baby girl, real cool.”

Esme smiled flashing her gums where her adult teeth hadn’t grown in yet, “Thanks Uncle Stiles. The kids in Venice are much cooler than the ones in Beacon Hills.”

“Well I think you’ll blow them all out of the water,” Derek grinned, spooning scrambled egg on to Esme’s plate, “now sit, no new school until you’re full.”

Esme dropped her jaw, “Daddy, that was a really good rhyme.”

Derek looked over at Stiles, nudging his foot under the table, “What are we even going to do to keep ourselves entertained while Esme is at school?”

Stiles shook his head, “We could read the encyclopedia?”

“You should really get a job Daddy,” Esme said with a mouthful of food, “Uncle Stiles needs alone time to write his book.”

Derek laughed, and Stiles traced his foot up Derek’s leg, “You are awfully distracting Derek.”

“Uncle Stiles is just going to have to put up with the distraction till I start my assistant coach job.”

“You don’t start at UCLA till the fall, that’s a lot of time alone together,” Stiles shook his head, “I don’t know how I’m gonna stand it.”

Esme nodded, “I believe in you Uncle Stiles. If he starts acting silly just make him go to his room. That’s what Daddy does with me and it always works.”

“Every time?”

“Yup, it’s a really good trick.”

Stiles was sitting alone on the couch, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee pretending not to be sad that he couldn’t see Esme off at her new school too without raising eyebrows. He remembered why he didn’t drink coffee as he finished his second mug and found himself struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Thought you weren’t much for sleep?” Derek said as he pulled Stiles in close.

“Where’d you come from?” Stiles smiled lazily, “Shouldn’t you be dropping Esme at school?”

“I did. Then I came home, did the breakfast dishes, mowed the lawns, and maybe watched you for a little.”

“Coffee makes me sleepy,” Stiles rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up but Derek pushed him back down laughing, “not funny, I got made backwards.”

“I think it’s cute,” Derek said, biting down on Stiles neck.

“Fuck, you with the biting.”

“Can’t,’ Derek started as he nipped along Stiles’ neck running his hand inside of Stiles’ sweater, “help it. You’re just so bitable.”

Stiles pulled Derek’s face in close to kiss, nipping and licking till Derek was grinding his hips down roughly against Stiles and shoving his hands down Stiles’ pants. Stiles pulled back with a grin, “Hey Derek?”

“Hmmm?” Derek said distractedly as he kissed along Stiles’ neck.

“We’re home alone.”

Derek laughed into Stiles’ neck, then sat back scrambling to remove Stiles’ sweater, “These off.”

“Easy tiger,” Stiles sat up, loosening Derek’s tie and unbuttoning his white dress shirt slowly, kissing down his collarbone as he slipped the shirt from his shoulders. Derek wrapped his hand behind Stiles’ head biting into another kiss that didn’t break until they’d shucked their pants and Stiles had Derek underneath him.

Stiles pushed Derek’s arms above his head, feeling all the way down the muscle to his underarms. Derek was making breathy noises as Stiles took his time kissing down his body. When he wrapped his lips around Derek’s cock, Derek cried, “Fuck Stiles.”

Stiles looked up at Derek, his were eyes clenched, fingers digging into the couch cushions. It took almost nothing to make Derek fall apart and it turned Stiles on more than anything ever had. Stiles sucked on Derek’s dick till he was kicking his legs, pulling Stiles’ hair before dragging Stiles to his lips to kiss.

Stiles melted into the kiss, then stood, “Stay there.”

Derek was spread out lazily stroking his cock when Stiles returned with the bottle of cooking oil.

 Derek laughed, “Really?”

Stiles shrugged putting the oil on the table,  “They were all out of KY at the drugstore yesterday.”

“Can’t we just use— ”

Stiles shook his head, “Not for your first time baby.”

Derek pulled on Stiles’ arm roughly, causing him to tumble painfully on top of Derek, “So hot when you call me baby.”

Stiles grinned as he reached for the oil, trying and failing to coat his fingers without it spilling all over the coffee table. He lifted Derek’s leg giving him easier access to his ass, and circled his oiled fingers around the rim as he leaned over kissing Derek to distract him as he slid a finger into his ass.

Derek bit down on Stiles’ lip roughly and reached down to grab Stiles’ dick as Stiles glided his finger in and out. “Fuck, you’re making it really hard to be gentle.” Stiles said, trying to keep his breath steady as he added another finger, taking his time to stretch the tight hole.

“Just do it,” Derek said looking strained after minutes of Stiles fucking his ass with his long fingers.

Stiles stood and held out his hand, “We should probably be doing this in the bedroom.”

Derek looked at the spilt oil on the table then down at Esme’s rag doll lying next to the couch and laughed, “We’re stupid.”

Derek was on his hands and knees on the bed as Stiles brushed the head of his cock around Derek’s rim, stroking his hand down along Derek’s spine, “No going back to the church social to meet yourself a wife once I fuck you.”

Derek turned his head to look back at Stiles and smirked, “You’re an idiot.”

Stiles carefully slid his dick into Derek inch-by-inch, “You really wanna sass the guy with his dick in your ass?”

Derek dipped his head down below his shoulders and breathed in deeply, as Stiles stilled inside of him, “You mean the guy who is trying to rip me apart internally with his disproportionately large penis.”

Stiles laughed, sliding out of Derek before pushing back in just slightly faster, “It’s not out of proportion.”

“Oww, fuck. Yes it is.” Derek’s fingers curled around the bed sheets, as Stiles began to move his hips a little, still easing Derek into it. Derek made a noise that could only be described as a squeak when Stiles accidentally pushed in a little too far too quickly.

Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek’s cock, stroking as he made gentle thrusts, “Sorry baby,” he whispered into Derek’s skin.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“Want me to stop?” Stiles asked, building a slow steady rhythm fucking in to him, his hand still on Derek’s dick.

“I want you move faster.” Derek dropped his arms down in front of him and resting his head in the crook of his elbow. Stiles picked up the pace, and dropped the talk as Derek started moaning loudly in front of him then cried, “Oh Jesus. Fuck Stiles. I’m gonna--”

Stiles kept his pace and his hand steady on Derek despite the overwhelming urge to pound into him. Derek’s body went stiff as he came all over Stiles’ hand and the sheets below. Stiles turned Derek over on to his back, sinking his mouth down on his dick and sucking him till his dick began to soften. Derek was grinning at him with a goofy expression when Stiles slid back in between Derek’s legs.

Derek pulled Stiles’ head down to kiss him, his tongue tangling with Stiles’, his fingers entwined in Stiles’ hair. “I like seeing you,” Derek said when Stiles pulled away to catch his breath.

Derek was hard again and making those noises that drove Stiles crazy as he stroked his own cock, his green eyes never leaving Stiles’. Stiles lifted Derek’s right leg as he drove faster and deeper into him, he was trying to make it last but Derek was too hot and Stiles was too in love. He slowed his thrusts as he grew closer to the edge trying to stretch out the feeling for as long as he could.

“Fuck, you’re making me--” Derek hissed. Stiles was done the second he felt Derek’s body tense, shooting inside of Derek stupidly surprised by his unexpectedly sudden orgasm. Stiles dropped down to kiss Derek as he rode it out the aftershocks, laughing into Derek’s lips as he told Stiles, “I can feel it.”

Stiles rolled off of Derek as soon as he’d steadied his breathing, “You came twice. Man that’s hot.”

Derek smiled ran his hand along his sweaty chest down to where he’d come the second time, “Wise move relocating from the couch.”

“We should make a blow-job only rule for all other rooms in the house.”

Derek grinned, leaning in and kissing Stiles, “I like blow jobs.”

“You’d hate them from anyone else, really they’re just a drag unless they’re from me.”

“I believe you,” he said stroking his hand along Stiles’ face.

“Think we’ll be okay without all the excitement of death threats and murder attempts?”

“I think we’ll manage.”


	17. Chapter 17

Esme had decorated the garden beautifully. Red and white paper lanterns were strung up around the trees and long stretches of what looked like white silk twisted around the palm trees and the jacarandas twining together near the ground to make a path up to the house. “Ready baby?” Stiles asked, holding his hand out to Derek from the back patio.

“I’ve had time to prepare myself,” he smiled as he took Stiles’ hand in his.

***

Scott stood in front of the large table and picked up the microphone from the stand, clearing his voice no less than five times before he spoke, “I never thought I’d be here talking to all of you today and if you’d told me when I was eighteen I’d be at the—“ he pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself before he continued, “sorry I promised Lydia I wouldn’t cry.”

Lydia shook her head and laughed loudly, “He asked me to make him promise he wouldn’t.”

Scott patted her shoulder, “My beautiful wife everyone,” he said and everyone laughed, “Stiles Stilinski changed my life. I told him once I was going to follow him into the FBN, instead of saving lives I somehow ended up studying theatre and it was Stiles who pushed for me to be cast in the film version of his novel, _The Great Pretender._ I honestly don’t know where I would have ended up without this man, who even undercover was the most loyal friend I ever had. I love you man—“

Lydia stood and put her arm around Scott, ushering him back to his seat and smiling widely to the crowd.

***

Derek didn’t release Stiles’ hand when they reached the end of the garden. Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand twice before meeting Derek’s focused gaze, he wasn’t going to let go of his hand, he didn’t care about protocol they were in this together.

***

Esme smiled that perfect smile of hers out at the crowd as Lydia passed her the microphone, “I was twenty four in 1976. I remember a lot of my friends I’d known in college were struggling with the fact that their parents had split after years of seemingly harmonious marriage. I was the odd one out, not because my parents were gay for once but because, while all their parents were reenacting _The War of the Roses,_ my fathers were more in love than ever and excited about being able to kiss and hold hands without fear for the first time in eighteen years.  This is what I think of first when people ask me what it was like to be raised by two dads. It was never easy for them but they never stopped fighting for the right to love each other, and for their right to love me. They were my heroes when I was six, and they’re still my heroes at fifty-six.”

***

The man that stood in front of them had tears in his eyes as he spoke, “You’ve seen walls crumble, wars fought, civil rights movements won and through all of it you’ve only grown in your love and commitment to each other. Fifty years and you still stand strong, here today in front of your family and friends as well as everyday to the world. You two have sustained it all, been there for each other through all the good times and bad times.

Justice came to California on June 16th 2008, when the state senate ruled in favor of equal protection rights. They were brave and they were right in granting the right to marry to all persons."

Derek grinned up at Stiles, slipping the ring on his finger with shaky hands and mouthing, 'I love you.' Stiles shook his head as he pushed Derek's ring on to his finger, 'I love you more.'

The man smiled at them both, "By the authority vested in me by the state of California, I’m proud to proclaim you Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, married.”

 

 


End file.
